A Forest Tale
by waterside
Summary: Sequel to "A Prison Tale". AU story for young Snape, who has recently become an Order member, but not a spy. Can he learn to work with the men he hates and with the woman he loves? A story of friendship, sacrifice and Patronuses.
1. The Article of the Daily Prophet

Disclaimer: The characters and many other things belong to J.K. Rowling alone.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 1**

_The Article of the Daily Prophet_

Snape was walking round in the Potions classroom, watching several cauldrons boil and bubble simultaneously. The morning was just dawning, but this counted as normal work-time for him. He wanted to finish brewing some potions that had been maturing over night, and he could do it either early, before the first Potions class started, or late in the afternoon, when the students and the Potions teacher had already vacated the room. In the evenings, he had the classroom all to himself, but today he was going to spend that time preparing new potion ingredients, fresh from the glass houses.

It had been different in the beginning. Back in September and October, Snape had usually spent his afternoons in the company of Professor Horace Slughorn. Although Slughorn always let Snape make the potions alone, he apparently enjoyed talking to him. Slughorn knew innumerable anecdotes about generations of prominent witches and wizards, and seemed determined to tell Snape all of them. He stopped occasionally, noticing that his assistant had done something differently than he would have done, but Snape was always able to explain the advantages of his method. To his credit, Slughorn did not insist that Snape should follow the traditional way. After all, the results were _always_ impeccable.

Snape suspected, however, that he could not be the ideal conversation partner for his boss. Even though Slughorn himself could talk as much as three other people, Snape must have been too reserved and silent even for him. After a few weeks, Slughorn declared that Snape did not need supervision any more (_not _that he had needed any before that), and he would not for the world offend him by constantly watching over him. From that day on, Snape was allowed to brew the potions in blissful solitude, which he considered a definite improvement in his working conditions. Without Slughorn, not only was he able to concentrate on the potions better, but he also had time to experiment with new and perfected potion recipes, many of them his own invention.

This was exactly what he was doing now. Leaning over one of the cauldrons, he noted with contentment that the potion was going to be ready about an hour earlier than it would be with the traditional method. He was quite used to spending his time in this way and in this classroom. After all, it was early May now, and he had been the Potions Master's assistant since September.

During the days, while the classroom was occupied by Slughorn and the students, he spent a lot of time reading in the library; or in his own office, making systematic notes of his potion brewing ideas and observations. It was also his responsibility to order potion ingredients from Diagon Alley by owl post so the school should never run short of anything important.

In December, as a further sign of Slughorn's trust and appreciation, Snape had been charged with marking all Potions essays and exam papers from year one to year five. (The Potions Master conscientiously reserved the NEWT students' written assignments for himself.) Thus, Snape was occupied for most of the day, conveniently avoiding the necessity - even the possibility - of thinking too much about the world outside Hogwarts.

True, his life had changed since he had been a Death Eater, and he did not wish for the old days to return for a minute. At Hogwarts, among the books and the potions, he could feel perfectly at home - now much more than in his student years. He had his private quarters, where he could retreat whenever he chose, without having to experience the utter loneliness he had so often felt at Spinner's End. The members of the Hogwarts staff did not know about his Death Eater past, or at least they never mentioned it to him. He was neither a teacher, nor a student, and he did not try to find any friends at the school, but his work was valued, and it gave him satisfaction.

Though Snape would perhaps never admit it to anyone else but himself, being a Hogwarts employee meant more to him than simply being in possession of a job or even a home. It meant refuge as well – the only possible refuge in a safe haven that he could accept with his head held high. At Hogwarts, he was able to earn his living while being safe from both the Dark Lord and the aurors; and he knew full well that it was Dumbledore alone who could guarantee him this safety. He had no idea whether the Ministry had any knowledge of the Potions Master's new assistant's past. If they did not know about his past, it was because Dumbledore did not want them to. If they did know about it, then it could only be due to Dumbledore's influence that they never came to look for him.

As for the Dark Lord, Snape was sure that his former master knew where he was. Among the students, there were some who were closely related to Death Eaters, or whose family otherwise supported the Dark Lord. It could only be a matter of time for Snape's whereabouts to become known by them. Whenever he ventured out of the school grounds, he had to count on the possibility that he might never come back. He did go out though - at least when it was an unavoidable necessity - but he always took care to do it secretly and never in a regular pattern.

His status as a member of the Order of the Phoenix had so far been a completely passive one. In the beginning, he had expected to get various assignments, but nothing had happened, and he even wondered whether it was lack of trust on Dumbledore's part or whether the whole Order was temporarily inactive. There had been no formal introduction or joining up; in fact, he had not even met the other Order members yet. Of course, he knew Lily and Potter and Black, but – as far as Snape could tell - they rarely came to Hogwarts. He had seen Lily only a couple of times since their meeting back in September, when they had had a long conversation (which later helped Snape practise the Patronus Charm with great success), and even those few occasions were short and the circumstances were official rather than private.

Until now, the only sign that the Order perhaps still needed him had been Dumbledore's habit of inviting him to one-to-one meetings, where Dumbledore kept asking questions about the Dark Lord and his followers, and Snape kept answering according to the best of his knowledge. Dumbledore was interested in everything - his curiosity could not have been greater if he had wanted to write the biography of the Dark Lord. Dumbledore inquired after incredibly small details, and Snape recalled memories he had never thought he possessed in the first place. How Dumbledore used the intelligence obtained in these meetings, Snape never knew, but he had no doubt that the Dark Lord was clever enough to guess that he _was_ imparting information.

Today as well, he had to appear in the circular office at eleven o'clock. This time, however, Dumbledore had hinted that they were going to discuss a task that Snape would do for the Order. Dumbledore had alluded to an assignment that "required a brave heart and a cool head". To Snape, it translated as a dangerous and difficult job. Still, if Dumbledore thought Snape was the person to be entrusted with it, he would do everything in his power to make sure that his mentor would not be disappointed.

He took the cauldrons off the fire; then with a single wave of his wand, he extinguished all of the fires at once. He spent some time bottling and putting away potions safely into their storing cabinets until he decided it was time for him to leave the classroom and have breakfast.

There was still nearly half an hour before the beginning of the first class, and the Great Hall was rather noisy yet. Snape sat down at the staff table, keeping a respectful distance from the teachers who were present. He did not like to force his company on anyone, and fraternizing with those who a few years before had been his teachers, known him as a kid, given him marks and detentions did not seem like an attractive idea.

Therefore he was quite glad to see his copy of the Daily Prophet land on the table before him, just missing his tea, followed by a cheeky post owl with more than average interest in the slice of bacon on Snape's plate. Those who were not in a hurry to their classes often chose to open their papers and skim through the news already at the breakfast table. This time Snape decided to do exactly that, although a more thorough reading would take place only in his office later on, when he needed a tea break during the marking of the essays. He took a quick look at the paper - and he soon wished that he had not.

On page 3, the following headline caught his eyes:

_A Death Eater on the Hogwarts Staff?_

He stared at the article with a stiff face.

_A __concerned member of our wizarding community has finally spoken up, revealing a terrible secret exclusively to our newspaper. _

_"I cannot be silent any more," says the middle-aged man, who, for understandable safety reasons, wishes to remain unnamed, "when I see what is happening behind the walls of the venerable institution in whose care generations of British wizards and witches have left and still leave their children with complete trust and confidence."_

_Our source has asserted that Severus Snape, the recently appointed assistant to Hogwarts Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, Prof. Horace E. F. Slughorn, is closely connected to the Wizard Who Must Not Be Named and his followers. _

_"He is a Death Eater," says the troubled-looking wizard, "and I would be very surprised if either Headmaster Dumbledore or the Ministry did not know about it. Those who are in charge of the school are responsible for the people they hire; therefore they are guilty of either criminal negligence or complicity in a crime against our children." _

_In response to our inquiry regarding the origin of his information, our fellow-wizard of unquestionable integrity and indisputable reputation replied that he would only reveal the source and the evidence to an auror or other Ministry official who was ready to both find out and disclose the truth. _

_"I am greatly disappointed to see that the Ministry has allowed this young man to work in a position of responsibility at Hogwarts since September. I have decided to turn to the Daily Prophet so the power of publicity can force those whose duty is to guard our children's safety to finally put an end to this unacceptable situation."_

_The Daily Prophet contacted the Auror Headquarters at the Ministry of Magic, but received no definite answer to the question whether they knew anything about these accusations. _

_"We will examine every suspicious case in due course, but we cannot share each step of our investigation with the press without hindering the investigation itself," was the official response._

_Prof. Horace Slughorn of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was much more willing to answer our queries. He explained that the assistant's position had been newly created in September with the specific purpose of employing Severus Snape to help the aging professor with his complex tasks. As mentioned above, the Potions Master is in charge of Slytherin House (incidentally, the Hogwarts House most closely associated with Death Eaters, and the House where Severus Snape himself was a student only a few years ago), and traditionally he had prepared the potions used in the school for various purposes, including the needs of the Hospital Wing. This latter job - potion making and the general care of the potion ingredients stored in the school - has been taken over by the young assistant. _

_"Yes, I am very satisfied with Severus," says Slughorn, who also acknowledges that he is planning to retire in the not so distant future. When asked about his assistant's possible association with Him Who Must Not Be Named, the elderly professor suddenly appears shocked and categorically denies the allegations (or at least his knowledge of them), then hastily declares the interview finished. _

_The Daily Prophet has not yet managed to interview Prof. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. As the case unfolds, we will regularly update our readers about a possible security hazard at the school of the British wizarding community. _

He forced himself to raise his gaze from the newspaper. At the far end of the staff table, Professor Flitwick bent closer to Dumbledore, showing him something in his copy of the paper. Minerva McGonagall was reading the newspaper spread in front of her on the table. Her mouth was thin, and her lips were pressed closely together. Snape glanced towards the students. Not many of them were reading, but some seemed to be eyeing him.

He rose, determined to leave as calmly and naturally as possible. If only he knew what the natural way of leaving the Great Hall was. He had never paid any attention to it before. He did manage to leave without any hurry, without looking at anyone, and without closing the door behind him much more violently than at other times. The door of his quarters was not so lucky. He slammed it with all his might; then he crumpled the newspaper into a ball and flung it onto the floor. For a moment, he stood clenching his fist with so much force that his nails hurt his hands, then he threw himself onto the sofa and there he remained staring at the cold fire-place with a blank expression.

He had expected that it would come out one day. He had expected it - and yet he had not been prepared. He had not thought that it would feel like this. Now he was imagining hundreds of parents and grandparents reading the article about the _security hazard_ at Hogwarts. He could already see the teachers discussing the mortifying revelations, demanding explanation from Dumbledore... The Ministry...the Aurors were bound to investigate now... and Slughorn ... why had not Slughorn mentioned the interview to him?

He could as well start packing ... even if they believed his change of heart and he _got_ pardoned by the Ministry, he could not stay at Hogwarts. No one would want him there, perhaps not even Dumbledore any more... He would end up either in Azkaban or on the run from the Dark Lord...

But he did not start packing. He lacked the willpower to even move his arm. And later, much later, when he did find the strength to move, he was only reaching for his wand. He struggled to recall a happy memory. Nothing in his life seemed happy now; everything was spoilt, failed or lost irrevocably. He might never have the power to cast a Patronus again. He wanted to ask her if she would stay with him in Azkaban, if there was a way for him to call her to his side without a wand and without any happy memories, but he gave up before trying the charm. It was as though he could already feel the presence of the Dementors.

It took him a while to notice the knocking on the door. He did not want to see anyone, but then again, he was not hiding, was he?

"Enter!" he said at last, trying to sound "natural" again.

The door opened and Dumbledore came in, his expression grave. With a silent gesture, Snape offered him a seat in one of two armchairs beside the small coffee-table. Snape sank into the other one. Dumbledore's visit to his private quarters was quite extraordinary. Usually, he would get only a short message summoning him to the Headmaster's office. The professor looked round in the room and his gaze lingered on the crumpled ball that used to be a copy of the Daily Prophet. After a few moments of pensive silence, he turned to Snape.

"Do you have any idea about the identity of the mysterious informant?" he asked.

Snape frowned. He had not bothered to make a guess yet.

"No," he said. "Does that matter?"

"It does," said Dumbledore. "How many people know that you were once a Death Eater?"

"I cannot tell," he answered. "The Dark Lord knows... and the Death Eaters... and you and ... some people in the Order." He could not bring himself to mention Lily or Potter or Black. "That means any number of people I don't know about."

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "It will be easy to ask the members of our Order -"

"Ask them what? If they have recently reported me to the Prophet without giving their names?"

Snape knew that he was being impolite but he did not care.

"Of course not. I will ask them if they happened to mention this information to anyone. But I don't really think they did."

"So?" asked Snape, who had no idea where Dumbledore was trying to get with this.

"That would mean the source of the information must be Lord Voldemort and his circle," Dumbledore answered quietly.

"The article described the informant as a wizard of unquestionable reputation and -" Snape stopped. It was suddenly beginning to make sense to him.

"For all we know, the actual informant could be anyone," said Dumbledore, "a secret Death Eater or a wizard of the type the article described."

"Imperiused," said Snape.

"For example," agreed Dumbledore.

It was quite clear now. If the Dark Lord, as Snape had long assumed, could guess that Snape had already shared his knowledge with Dumbledore, it was no more in the Dark Lord's interest to keep Snape's Death Eater past secret. The Dark Lord could not reach Snape while Snape was at Hogwarts so he decided to use the aurors and public opinion against him. Even if Snape was not locked up in Azkaban, if he had to leave Hogwarts, he would be an easy prey to the Death Eaters hunting him. Snape knew that the Dark Lord could not afford to let a traitor off the hook. It would send the wrong message to his followers.

"Is it true that the Ministry -" he began tentatively.

Dumbledore nodded.

"It is true that so far they have had no knowledge about your past. Now, however, they will be obliged to investigate."

Dumbledore glanced at the large clock on the wall.

"It is nearly ten o'clock now. Soon I will have to deal with a reporter, who announced his visit just half an hour ago. In the meantime, you will see an auror in your office. He wants to talk to you."

"That is really quick," Snape grunted.

Dumbledore actually smiled.

"You will not think me too conceited if I confess that this speed is chiefly my achievement."

Snape gaped at him.

"Taking the first step towards the Ministry gave me the advantage of being able to choose the auror who would be handling the case," said Dumbledore earnestly. "It is much better than waiting for a random auror coming this way some time later today."

He rose and went to the door. With his hand on the door handle, he stopped and looked directly into Snape's eyes.

"There is one thing that must remain between us, Severus," he said slowly. "Please, do not mention to anyone the Prophecy that was made about … Lord Voldemort."

Snape nodded to indicate that he had understood the order, feeling Dumbledore's piercing eyes examining him for a moment. Dumbledore sighed then spoke again.

"This is going to be a difficult day, but on no account should you forget our meeting at eleven o'clock. Do not be late."


	2. The Auror

Disclaimer: The characters and many other things belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 2**

_The Auror_

Dumbledore left, and Snape was staring after him for a while. It seemed Dumbledore had not given up on him completely - in any case, the Headmaster still expected him in his office at eleven o'clock.

Oh, well, Dumbledore had chosen the auror for him. Dumbledore was dealing with a reporter because of him. Dumbledore had come to him personally... But Dumbledore had not said that he was not regretting hiring Snape... but then again, what could he expect?

He put his wand into his pocket and went to his office, which was only a few steps away from his private quarters. He did not have to wait long for the auror to arrive. The visitor knocked and entered without waiting for Snape's permission. He was an old man, with a grim countenance, bearing the marks of numerous battles. He had a wooden leg and a penetrating look. Snape met his gaze with something that he hoped to be an unfathomable expression on his face, but his mind and his heart were racing. He knew the auror in front of him. Everybody knew this auror. He was called Alastor Moody, and he had perhaps the highest number of captured dark wizards on his record at the Auror Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic.

Moody sat down in Snape's office without any invitation to do so, and Snape, after a moment's hesitation, followed his example.

"Severus Snape," Moody began, "I am here to prove or to disprove the recent accusations concerning -"

"There is no need for you to overexert yourself," said Snape, cutting him short. He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm and showed the auror his Dark Mark. "Here."

The disgust was palpable on the old man's face as he examined the Dark Mark thoroughly. Then he looked into Snape's eyes.

"Have you got any special explanation for why you are wearing that mark?" he asked.

He had an unpleasant, raspy voice.

"Only the usual one," said Snape silkily. "I was a Death Eater once."

"You _were_?" asked the auror with a delicate emphasis on the verb.

"In the past," Snape snapped. "Once. But not any more."

He covered his forearm again.

"And the thing does not come off, does it?" growled Moody, watching Snape's arm as though he could still see the Dark Mark on it. "Tell me about the crimes you committed."

"What exactly am I accused of?" Snape asked icily.

"Death Eaters are rarely innocent lambs," answered Moody. "It is _my_ job to ask questions now, not yours."

Snape glared at him.

"Then ask the informant of the Daily Prophet," he said with forced calmness. "Perhaps they will be able to tell you something… or perhaps they won't."

"As an ex-Death-Eater, you can hardly count on the Ministry's benevolence without any cooperation," warned Moody, shaking his head.

"I will not confess to anything that I did not do!"

"You can't have been of much use to You-Know-Who then," said the auror, his eyes fixed on Snape. "Am I to learn about a failed Death Eater career? It would be a real curiosity in my long years as a dark-wizard-hunter."

Snape flushed. The truth was that he had been longing once to be acknowledged, to be valued by the Dark Lord, but his greatest achievement, the one that had won him unquestionable favour at last, was overhearing the Prophecy and reporting it to the Dark Lord, a deed he now wished he could wipe out of his past.

"I don't believe in reformed Death Eaters," the auror continued, his eyebrows raised. "But you will get a chance to prove your statements. I would be interested in your motivation for turning your back on You-Know-Who and for coming to _Hogwarts_ of all places," he finished, still watching Snape closely.

There was a long silence.

"My goals have changed," said Snape finally.

It was not at all easy to talk to this man about his motivations. It was very different with Dumbledore, who seemed highly perceptive of unspoken thoughts and emotions, even on occasions when, for obviously "educational" purposes, he forced Snape to verbalize something he would rather have kept hidden and unexpressed.

"I must tell you that I'm expecting longer answers than that," growled the auror disdainfully. "What evidence can you give me to prove the change?"

"Why don't you ask Dumbledore?" Snape hissed. "He's got all the evidence that I have. He knows what I have done... perhaps you will believe _him_.

"I have already talked with Dumbledore," said Moody. "I know what he has got to say of you... but even if he is not mistaken about your present loyalties, young man, it does not erase the past."

The auror got to his feet.

"You still have to answer for your past actions, and the decision about your future will be in the hands of the Wizengamot. You must come with me and answer _all_ my questions in full details. You are strongly advised to cooperate."

Snape knew that he was pale, very pale, and he hated himself for it. He rose, too. It seemed he would not make it to the meeting after all.

In that moment, the door was thrown open, and Dumbledore entered the room. Snape was quite sure that Dumbledore had not knocked this time. The Headmaster looked from one of them to the other, obviously assessing the situation.

"Got rid of the reporter already?" growled Moody under his breath.

"I can talk extremely fast when I want to," Dumbledore answered cheerfully. "You have not finished yet, have you? Why don't you two sit down?"

He waved his wand, and immediately a third chair appeared in the office.

"As a matter of fact," Moody muttered, "we are just about to leave. Both of us."

"Alastor," said Dumbledore calmly, "Severus, too, has an important duty to do today. I don't suppose a hearing is likely to take place very soon. There is no point in arresting Severus now."

He sat down as he spoke, and slowly Moody and Snape did the same.

"Further investigation is unavoidable," said Moody, his distrustful eyes surveying Snape's face.

"I understand," Dumbledore replied. "However, we need Severus and the work he is doing for us. Therefore, it would only be fair if he could continue this work while he is waiting for the decision of the Wizengamot. It is possible to interrogate him here if necessary."

He reached into his pocket, took out a neatly rolled up parchment, and handed it to the auror.

"Here is my written testimony," he said.

Snape wondered when exactly Dumbledore had had the time to write it.

"Can you guarantee that we find him when he is needed?" Moody asked Dumbledore.

Snape was throwing dark glances at the two old men, who were discussing him and his fate as though he was not even present. It was an insult, and he wanted it to stop.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"I suppose Severus can promise that he will not run away."

Moody was looking at Snape as though he did not set much store by such promises. Snape stared back defiantly at Moody.

"I promise," he said coldly "that I will not leave Hogwarts until further notice from the Ministry -"

"Unless," Dumbledore interposed, "on my orders and with my approval."

"Unless on the Headmaster's orders and with the Headmaster's approval," Snape repeated mechanically. Of course, the only reason why he was not arrested immediately was the work he was doing - he had to be able to run errands for the school or maybe for the Order if necessary.

"That should be good enough, Alastor," said Dumbledore.

"Are you absolutely sure that you can vouch for him?" asked Moody, still talking to the Headmaster.

"Perfectly sure," said Dumbledore.

Snape felt a strange constriction in his throat, which caused him to momentarily stare at the floor of his office. Dumbledore was doing what no one had done before - protecting him.

"I want a written confession from the young man as well," said Moody dryly. "Today."

"Severus will write it presently," answered Dumbledore. "Then he will bring it to my office. Half an hour will be enough, will it not, Severus?"

"Of course," said Snape, biting his lip.

"I want precise details," growled Moody.

"You had better start at once," suggested Dumbledore with a passing glance at Snape. "Alastor, will you kindly come with me now?"

"See you soon, Snape," Moody snarled, banging his walking stick on the floor irritably, as he was approaching the door.

Snape thought that he could detect the tiniest of smirks appearing for a brief moment on the Headmaster's face. The professor and the auror left together, and Snape was alone again, free to throw a tantrum privately or to write his confession for the Ministry in peace.

Still, he was expected to be on time. He _was_ on time. Thirty minutes later, with the required parchment in his pocket, he was standing in front of the door of the circular office. He was about to knock when he heard words from inside and he stopped dead in his tracks. The conversation between the two old men sounded quite heated.

"You know," he heard Moody's voice saying, "if I wanted to plant a spy somewhere, I would consider two possibilities. I would either try to find a traitor close to my target, or take one of my own men, have him seemingly do something that my enemies are likely to sympathize with, and I would make sure they are informed about this deed. Then I would lock this man up and let him escape so he can carry a heartrending tale to my enemies, and I would watch them embrace him with open arms."

Moody was close to shouting, but Snape drew closer to the door expecting Dumbledore's answer to be quieter.

"I have good reason to be convinced of Severus's loyalty," said Dumbledore. "You can rest assured that he learned from the mistake he had made in his teenage years and his change of heart is genuine. It would be a grave mistake to send him to Azkaban when we can have him as a useful member of our community. He deserves a second chance."

Snape's cheek touched the door, but he suddenly pulled his head back as though he had been burned. Dumbledore's voice sounding through the door had brought back an embarrassing memory. What _was _he doing? He shuddered, knocked, and opened the door.

He expected to find only Moody and Dumbledore there, but the room was full of people. Dumbledore occupied his usual throne-like chair at his desk, and Moody was sitting on his right. On Dumbledore's left, Lily Potter was gazing towards the door. Next to her, Snape saw James Potter leaning close to Sirius Black. There were two other people around the desk, whom Snape recognized as Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, Potter's closest friends at school, besides Black.

Snape stood still, as though he had just realized that he had entered the wrong room by mistake. Just moments later, however, he composed his features again and – ignoring the ominous little knot in his chest – closed the door and walked towards the desk.

"Severus, please, come in," said Dumbledore. "The meeting is just about to start."

At least he did not have to ponder where to sit. There was only one empty chair, placed between Moody and Pettigrew. Snape took this seat, and while Dumbledore was politely greeting all those who were present, he tossed the roll of parchment in front of the auror, who immediately put it into his pocket.

Snape was staring silently at the desk before him. Dumbledore had not warned him that others were invited to the meeting as well. It would not have bothered him if it had not been for the article in the Prophet or if he had not found himself unexpectedly in the company of _this_ particular set of people.

"I have invited you here today," Dumbledore began, "to ask you to participate in a task that may save many lives from torture and death in the hands of Death Eaters. As you all know, less than a year ago, the Order discovered the location of Voldemort's prison island. It is the place where he keeps his prisoners, the people whom the Death Eaters have kidnapped but have not yet killed."

Snape slowly raised his head. This was then a meeting of Order members, and they _all_ were about to be assigned a job, the first Order job that he would take part in. Still, the idea that Alastor Moody, the auror who had almost arrested him a little while ago, was also an Order member, preparing to participate in an Order mission with him was shocking. But at least now he understood why Dumbledore had hurried to invite _Moody _to investigate his case.

"Ever since then, it has been one of our goals to break into the prison and free the prisoners, which now seems to be possible finally."

Dumbledore paused for a second.

"With the help of a wand that once was used for entry," he continued, sending a swift look towards Snape, "we do not only have information abut the spells that protect the island, but we also possess a sample of the magic used to temporarily lift the wards. I am pleased to announce that now we have a fully worked-out method to break the spells around the island."

Dumbledore beamed at the room at large.

"You are, of course, the exclusive and select group of Order members chosen to attempt the mission. Three of you have first-hand experience of the place, and all of you have special skills and knowledge that you can use in a constructive way during the mission. As the leader of the team, our beloved Alastor will be responsible for the success of the endeavour."

At these last words, Potter, his friends and Lily began applauding noisily. Snape was motionless, while Moody was shaking his head, murmuring something that sounded very much like "kids".

"When are we going to start?" asked Lupin.

"A week from today," said Dumbledore, "at night, you will travel to the Order base designated as the spot where you will later start the attack from. Until then, you have some time to prepare. You must be ready to spend several days on the base. Bring your most effective tools and weapons," he added, taking a long glance at Potter, before his eyes turned towards Snape.

_Potions_, thought Snape. _I will be responsible for potions_. He wondered what special tools and weapons Potter was meant to take to the mysterious Order base.

"If anyone should realize that they may not be able to participate," Dumbledore continued, "certain changes are still possible."

Snape followed Dumbledore's gaze, and saw that the professor's eyes settled on Lily's face. She blushed a little, but she also looked back at Dumbledore openly.

"So what is the plan?" asked Pettigrew timidly.

"You will find it out in time," said Moody abruptly before Dumbledore could answer anything. "I myself will tell you as soon as we are all there."

"Oh, yes," squeaked Pettigrew." Of course."

"Constant vigilance," Moody growled, and Snape was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He assumed Moody was referring to his suspicions about _him_. What other reasons could they have to be so secretive?

_He thinks I might __just rush to the Dark Lord with the information_, he thought bitterly. _Of course_.

Nobody inquired after the whereabouts of the Order base, but Snape assumed it was another island in the same area. Dumbledore told the group that there were no regularly stationed Death Eaters on the prison island; only prison guards, less important servants of Lord Voldemort, whose abilities, however, should not be underestimated. The Order would provide transportation methods for the freed prisoners. Moody, the leader of the team, would be in daily contact with Dumbledore.

It sounded every bit a very dangerous enterprise but everyone seemed to agree that they could expect no better chance to free the people held captive there; and Snape was obliged to share this opinion. He had been able to give Dumbledore some data concerning the estimated size of the prison. Since the number of people who had disappeared was quite large, the hope that some of them could still be found alive was a great motivating force.

With most details being, for the moment, secret, there was little more for them to discuss, and the meeting, which had been disturbed several times by owls flying in through the open window and dropping letters in front of Dumbledore, soon finished. Lily, Potter and Potter's friends left, but Moody did not move. Snape hesitated for a second; then rose from his seat.

"I want you to stay here a few more minutes, Snape" said the auror in a commanding voice.

He obeyed without looking at either of the two old men. Even so he knew that Moody was taking the parchment Snape had brought out of his pocket and was beginning to read it. None of them spoke until Moody finished reading.

"No mention of any major crimes," he said, watching Snape with a new type of interest on his face.

"I did not kill anyone," Snape seethed through clenched teeth. "And I did not torture."

"Why not?" asked Moody, scrutinizing him.

Snape swallowed. The question evoked unpleasant memories in his mind.

"The Dark Lord needs followers with various talents," he answered slowly.

"So he picked you to be his spy," Moody growled, casting a meaningful look at Dumbledore.

Snape was silent.

"The details will have to be verified," said Moody grimly. "You are lucky to have a protector like Dumbledore."

He stood up.

"We will meet again soon," he said to Snape; then he turned to Dumbledore.

"Think about what I have told you."

"Thank you, Alastor," said Dumbledore, his eyes betraying a certain fondness as he pronounced those words, a fondness that Snape could by no means share. The door closed behind the auror, and Snape was no more able to contain the tension that had been accumulating in him for a while.

"Why," Snape burst out, "why just _these_ people of the whole Order?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have objections to the company?"

"It so happens that I do," Snape said insubordinately, completely disregarding the fact that, as a newcomer and a repentant Death Eater, he could only be at the bottom of whatever hierarchy existed in the Order of the Phoenix.

"That man," he indicated the seat where Moody had been sitting, "almost arrested me today."

"He was only doing his job," said Dumbledore. "He is an auror. He is also a powerful wizard, one of the best people to lead a dangerous mission."

"He did not believe me!" shouted Snape. "He looked at me as though I was dirt! He made it clear that he never for a moment believed that I was trustworthy at all ... that I had changed!"

Accusation burned in his eyes, as he stared at Dumbledore.

"That he did not take me to the Ministry was only because of you!" Snape was panting with fury now. "And he made me swear that I would not leave Hogwarts!"

"You worded your promise very carefully," said Dumbledore with a little smile that angered Snape even more. "You won't leave Hogwarts unless on my orders. You don't have to break your promise at all."

"I know," Snape said bitterly, "but what was the point ... if he knew anyway ... why that comedy?"

Dumbledore smiled again.

"Alastor did not know, Severus," he said, "he did not know then any more than you did who else would participate in the mission. I spoke to him very briefly before he met you, and we did not have the opportunity to discuss Order matters."

Snape looked at him somewhat startled.

"When you told him..." he began again, swallowing hard, "I mean ... I am almost as good as arrested now. The Ministry... Didn't Moody...?"

His words were drowned in a mixture of shock and bitterness, but Dumbledore understood him nevertheless.

"No one can object if you are away in the company of an auror," he said earnestly. "Alastor will inform the Ministry that you are with him."

"I see," barked Snape. "Now he is responsible for me... so I won't flee or something."

"I trust you, Severus", said Dumbledore simply.

Snape was silent. He was bent on being angry with everyone, including Dumbledore, but it was impossible to remain angry when Dumbledore was so disarmingly calm and said that he trusted him. He suspected that there were precious few people who would make a similar assertion just right now.

"Any other complaints?" asked Dumbledore after giving Snape a few seconds of contemplation time.

"Potter," he answered, "and Black ... Lupin ... Pettigrew."

"What's wrong with them? If anyone, _they_ know who you really are," Dumbledore said quietly.

Snape was trying to find a way to put his feelings into words.

"You have no idea," he muttered. "They always hated me ... they ... together ..."

He wished Dumbledore understood him again. He wished Dumbledore understood how difficult it was going to be for him to work with this group of people, just to be with them, just to endure their company even... He realized that Dumbledore was not going make any changes for his sake, so perhaps it was pointless to mention it at all... but he wished Dumbledore could see his point of view.

"You are on the same side now," said Dumbledore. "You saved James and Lily, risking your life, and they... also did their best to save you. It's time you buried the past. You have a common goal now. Don't forget that."

Dumbledore paused.

"Or should I take that you would rather not participate in the mission?"

"No," Snape said quickly. "I did not mean that."

"Good. In any case... there is at least one team member you have no objection against."

The colour slightly rose in Snape's neck and cheeks, and he wished he could stop it.

"Lily should not come at all!" he said passionately.

"Why not?" asked Dumbledore.

"Because it is dangerous," he answered. "She is...." his voice trailed away. He was not sure what to say. That she was a woman, the only woman on the team? Could he even make the outrageous allusion that she was not as good as any of the rest of them, magic-wise? Should he say that he did not get himself tortured and nearly killed just to see her in mortal danger again? The truth - that he loved her and wanted her to be safe - he could not say; but Dumbledore knew it already anyway.

"There is going to be a battle," he said finally.

"Nobody forces her to go," said Dumbledore. "But she is an Order member, and she has seen the island, just like you and James. She thinks the three of you have knowledge that must not be left unexploited.... If you ask me, I believe Lily, just like James, regards this mission as her own personal fight."

Snape sighed. It was obvious that his objections would not change anything. He was calmer now that Dumbledore had listened to him, and he could remember a few questions he had wanted to ask regarding the mission.

"How can we be certain," he asked," that the prison is still there? How do we know the Dark Lord has not moved the prison to another island?"

"I sent out guards to watch the area," answered Dumbledore. "Moving so many people at once or one by one would not have escaped their attention. I am quite convinced that the prison is still in the same place."

"What about the spells? Are they still the same or are they new ones?"

"That is a very good question," answered Dumbledore. "Indeed, I would consider it a basic precaution to change the enchantments from time to time. Still, the spells I discovered were very strong, and I don't think Voldemort expects an attack. If I know him at all, he is too preoccupied these days with tracking down the Longbottom family to bother too much about a stronghold that he already believes to be impregnable. Fortunately, the method that you are going to use is not spell-specific but place-specific; in other words, it is based on the reduplication and slight modification of the spell that Lord Voldemort used on your wand to enable it to take you to the island rather than on the particular wards that it lifted."

Snape decided that any more inquiry about the plan would be premature yet. He would have liked to say other things to Dumbledore, too, but he did not know how.

"Come, Severus," said Dumbledore. "It is lunchtime; let's see what the house-elves have prepared for us today."

Snape was not hungry at all; therefore he almost declined the invitation, but thought better of it in the last moment.

They walked to the Great Hall together, and Snape realized that he would never have made it there alone. Students were staring at him everywhere, and some teachers, too. Walking towards the staff table under their scrutinizing glare was almost unbearable; and the only reason why he was willing to do it was Dumbledore walking by his side, asking him if he had heard about the latest research concerning the invention of a potion specifically for werewolves. Snape had read about it, and Dumbledore inquired about the details; so that when they finally reached the staff table, Snape suddenly found himself sitting next to Dumbledore, who was just asking him about the various uses of monkshood.

Slughorn was sitting relatively close to them, and the Headmaster soon turned toward the Potions Master, inviting him to join the conversation. Snape noticed that Slughorn was uncomfortable at first and avoided looking into his eyes; but a few minutes later, the two old professors were eagerly discussing potions and inventions as though there could be nothing more important or pressing for them to talk about. Gradually, other teachers joined them; and Snape knew that anyone who bothered to watch could see him by Dumbledore's side, surrounded by teachers, apparently engaged in a lively conversation with them.


	3. The Forest Pool

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I owe the characters to J. K. Rowling and I owe many other things to her and to many other writers.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 3**

_The Forest Pool_

_"Upon the forest pool's deep blue  
Golden petalled lilies float:  
Circling silver ripples play  
Around an ancient rowing boat._

_I pass along the sloping bank,  
I pause to listen, lost in dreams;  
I see "Her" rise among the reeds,  
She stretches out her arms__ it seems."_

(Mihai Eminescu: _The Forest Pool_)

The indignity of soon being permanently under the strict eyes of a morose and suspicious auror, who would no doubt prefer to see him in one of the dirty little cells of Azkaban, and in the company of the four men who, just a few years before, had made a sport of attacking and tormenting him, left hardly any room in Snape's mind to worry about the outcome of the dangerous Order mission. But whatever his expectations in this respect were, the coming days taught him to wholeheartedly wish that said mission started earlier, even immediately. Fighting prison guards or Death Eaters on a far away island seemed infinitely more desirable than the ordeal of the week before it.

During this week, he had to prepare for the job before him, but he also had to do (or so he thought) as much Hogwarts work as he possibly could, preparing potions and potion ingredients at an increased speed and in increased quantities to prevent any shortage in the school while he was away. He was also putting together a rich potion kit for the journey. In the remaining time, he was marking essays, as he could not bear the thought of leaving behind unfinished jobs when he unexpectedly disappeared.

But he could not do any of these jobs in peace. The Dark Lord's revenge (if the press campaign against him was indeed that) was working perfectly. Several more articles speculating about Snape's Death Eater connections were published in the Daily Prophet. One included a short interview with Dumbledore, who said he was perfectly well acquainted with Severus Snape's past and motivations, and found the young man a trustworthy and reliable member of the school staff, whose work was both needed and appreciated. Dumbledore's words were accompanied by the journalist's observations and remarks obviously aiming to discredit those very words. Still, Dumbledore was a well-respected wizard of great authority; therefore the article could not be quite as harmful as it seemed at first sight.

The journalist's free speculation concerning mainly the conspicuous silence of the Ministry was much worse.

Snape himself was not approached by any reporters. Perhaps they took their own writing seriously enough to avoid going near the alleged Death Eater. Snape did not mind that, since he suspected that his reaction to the appearance of a reporter would do nothing to heal his damaged reputation in anyone's eyes.

Perhaps the worst part was the knowledge that Dumbledore was continually receiving owls from parents and other anxious wizards and witches asking for explanation or demanding that the Headmaster sack the assistant immediately. Dumbledore did not mention these letters, but Snape saw him receive more and more of them. In the end, Dumbledore acknowledged the existence of the complaints and told Snape not to worry about them.

"It is my responsibility to read and answer my letters," said Dumbledore, "and I am perfectly able to deal with them."

But he did look a bit weary, and it made Snape feel bad. He had already realized that Dumbledore intended to keep him, but it did not seem to be an easy thing to do.

A not necessarily accidental slip of the tongue revealed that not even Slughorn succeeded in escaping the public outcry following the Snape-related articles in the Prophet, and it was rather apparent that he could not take it as well as Dumbledore. While the Headmaster quite convincingly pretended that receiving and answering letters of outraged correspondents was all in a day's work for him, the Head of Slytherin clearly regarded his involvement in the "scandal" (a term widely used at Hogwarts with reference to the case) as an issue likely to compromise his own reputation.

Though Slughorn was, for all intents and purposes, sharing Dumbledore's trust in Snape, or, at least, he was desperately clinging to it, he found that the damage control activities he was obliged to engage in took up so much of his limited free time that he had no choice but to genially relegate some more of his tasks to Snape, who was in no position to question the fairness of this move. For him, it meant even more marking as, with the exams mere weeks away, the home assignments of the NEWT students landed on his desk, too. Now he was practically spending whole nights marking the essays

Snape got owls, too. Some of the readers who took the Prophet's word at face value did not lack the courage to begin correspondence with an alleged Death Eater. Those letters could be rather nasty, some of them Howlers. Others were simply demanding that he come forward and explain himself. Snape did not take the trouble to respond to any of the letters, but they made him angry and irritable on a permanent basis, and he managed to offend almost every single person that he talked to in these days.

He also had to deal with the less openly expressed but far more palpable suspicion that surrounded him at Hogwarts. He spent most of his days in his office or in the Potions classroom alone, and with all the work he was doing he had every excuse to do so. He even avoided the library now. Still, it was impossible not come out from his seclusion sometimes.

Actually, he would have thought it quite possible (he would have gladly done without the meals, for example), but Dumbledore made a point of making Snape visible in his company, and Snape, as always, obeyed. As a result, he had plenty of opportunity to observe the attitudes of the teachers and the students, usually a rather humiliating experience, which even Dumbledore's amply demonstrated trust could just barely counterbalance.

On Friday afternoon, there was an all-staff meeting, where Snape had to appear as well. He had an unpleasant presentiment, although Dumbledore had not made so much as a faint allusion to the purpose of the meeting.

As it turned out, the meeting was about Snape. It was a highly embarrassing quarter of an hour when Dumbledore announced that he would now answer publicly all the questions and doubts that had recently been addressed to him in connection with Snape - and he promptly did so. Soon everybody knew that Snape had indeed been a Death Eater, who had "returned" (Dumbledore's choice of the word did not escape Snape's attention) on his own, who had had the courage to defy the Dark Lord, and who had risked his life to save others. Dumbledore also explained that a Ministry investigation was underway, and that he, for his own part, saw no reason why Snape could not continue working at Hogwarts unless the Wizengamot reached a decision that rendered it impossible.

Everyone was staring at Snape, who would have on the spot accepted a mission involving an urgent visit to the Moon if it had given him an excuse to leave the staff room immediately. That was, however, out of the question, since Dumbledore had deliberately made him participate in the meeting and hear everything that was disclosed, as he later, privately, explained to Snape, who nevertheless continued to wish that the revelations had taken place in his absence.

So Snape stayed and watched the expressions of doubt on several faces around him, and he knew that it was only the respect surrounding the Headmaster that could make the idea of having a former Death Eater in their ranks acceptable to many of the Hogwarts staff. Some of them seemed to be outright shocked – perhaps not so much to hear the news about Snape's past but to realize that Dumbledore, who had spent a life-time fighting against the Dark Side, could be so forgiving toward a former dark wizard.

Others agreed that giving a second chance to a young man who had made a mistake was a noble idea, and they only wished such second chances were distributed and enjoyed elsewhere, far from the place where _they_ happened to be living and working. There were also those who did not try to hide the opinion that even a reformed Death Eater could mean danger to the school as he had every reason to fear the revenge of his former "colleagues"; but Professor McGonagall pointed out that Dumbledore himself was both the Dark Lord's greatest enemy and the most important assurance that whatever happened in the outside world, the school was safe.

Many of the teachers lingered in the staff room when Snape was allowed to leave at last, giving them a chance to discuss the finer points that they were lucidly reluctant to bring up in his presence. Dumbledore, of course, had not mentioned Snape's imminent departure from the school for the sake of a secret mission; and Snape could very well picture how everyone was going to conclude that he had fled after all. Would they still believe if Dumbledore asserted that Snape was - temporarily - away with his knowledge and approval?

Such were the events that resulted in the relief, albeit mingled with anxiety, that Snape was feeling when he eventually set off from Hogwarts.

He slipped out of the building in the dark. He met Dumbledore on the grounds, where each of them got on a broomstick, and flew toward the Shrieking Shack, the designated place of departure in the village. They were the first to arrive, but Moody came only a minute later, soon followed by the others. They held one last, short discussion. Dumbledore gave Moody a small wooden box, murmuring "here they are"; then he produced a map, and showed them the location of the island which was the Order base where they would be stationed until the beginning of the attack. They also agreed on the exact spot on the coast where they would have to land. Then it was time to get ready for the Disapparition.

Moody limped closer to Snape.

"Perhaps we should Disapparate in pairs," he suggested, glancing sideways at Snape, "to minimize the risk of someone getting lost."

"I am not a child," hissed Snape angrily.

"Good idea," grinned Potter, and put his arms around Lily, who responded with half-joking, half-serious protestation.

"I can take Peter," said Black, winking.

"I know how to Disapparate," mumbled Pettigrew as Black's hand tightened around his wrist.

"That is settled then," said Moody with the unmistakable air of a leader, and grabbed Snape's arm. "Remus will Apparate on his own."

Snape barely had time to cast a last, indignant look at Dumbledore, who had given no sign of wanting to dispute Moody's idea, when he could already feel the characteristic sensation associated with Apparition.

"Here we are," grunted a raspy voice, which caused a whole set of murderous feelings to invade Snape's mind, and he shook off Moody's hand with one violent movement. Then his attention was captured by the various stimuli coming from their new environment.

They were indeed "there". On the coast of the northerly island, the dark of the night was just beginning to turn into grey; therefore the first of these stimuli came in the form of noises and feelings. The air was significantly colder than in Hogsmeade, and a light breeze brought the smell of salty water that reminded Snape vividly of the Dark Lord's island. The earliest birds were already beginning their morning songs, and not far from where the two of them were standing, Snape could make out the dark shapes of large trees, which he just identified as pine trees, when he heard a soft plopping noise behind his back. He turned and saw that Potter had just arrived with Lily. In the half-light, it seemed Lily smiled at him, but he was not sure enough to dare return the smile.

In that moment, with another soft plop, Black Apparated, bringing a sulky-looking Pettigrew, who obviously did not like being treated like a child any more than Snape did. Soon after them, Lupin arrived; and Moody concluded with a sort of pessimistic astonishment that the journey to their destination had been successfully completed.

"Follow me," he said, and took the wooden box he had got from Dumbledore into his hands, and opened it.

Snape glanced into the box and saw a set of wooden sticks quite like wands only much shorter than any wands he had seen. Moody took out one of the sticks, and, pointing it firmly forward as he went, he took a few steps inward the island. The others followed him. Suddenly Moody turned and pointed the small stick toward the sea.

Seemingly nothing happened, but Moody put the stick back into the box with a contented face.

The auror led them to a bay on the northern coast of the island, reaching deep into the forest, where they found a very small ship harboured at the mouth of a stream, in the shade of the pine trees. Not surprisingly, the ship was much larger inside than outside, and it was fully equipped with everything they could possibly need. From the inside, it looked spacious enough for many more passengers than just the seven of them. Everyone was allotted a small cabin, except for Lily and Potter, who shared a larger one between them. Snape was not surprised to find that his cabin happened to be situated next to Moody's.

Immediately after settling down, they gathered in a larger cabin, where Moody had ordered them all. They sat down around a round table, on which the wooden box was placed, still firmly clutched by the auror as though he was afraid that someone might steal it.

"I have called you here to explain the plan to you," he began.

"Good," said Black. "I wondered if we were to find it out ever."

Potter quite openly grinned, while Lily's smile was barely perceptible. Moody turned toward Black with a stern expression.

"Security is first," he said emphatically. "The fewer people know a secret, the safer it is. There was no reason for any of you to learn the details earlier."

Black gave an impatient nod. Moody continued.

"On this island, we are as close to You-Know-Who's island as we can possibly be without actually going there. This place has been fortified by the Order by means of a range of protective spells. It is almost like a fortress now – standing opposite the fortress of the dark side. Our job is to break into _their_ fortress – without allowing _our_ stronghold to be compromised."

Moody opened the wooden box.

"The tools that will help us enter the prison island are here in this box."

They all stared into the box. There were seven small sticks in it, identical in every way.

"What are they?" asked Black eagerly.

"They are wands," said Moody. "Auxiliary wands."

"What is an auxiliary wand?" asked Pettigrew sheepishly.

"An auxiliary wand is a wand designed for a specific task," the auror explained. "I hear that these were very difficult to make, given the special nature of the task they will have to do. But I trust that they will work."

The intonation of the last sentence sounded as though Moody might have some reservations about the wands.

"So what do they do?" asked Potter, getting visibly restless.

"They lift the wards surrounding the prison island," Moody answered. "But that is not all. They will also lift the wards on _this_ island. Without these wands no one can leave this island – not even for the sake of a quick swim in the sea – and no one can get through the wards from outside without them either."

He let them satisfy their curiosity by gaping at the wands for a few seconds; then he continued.

"Each of you will get one of these. Do not try to use them for anything else but what they have been made for."

Pettigrew was already putting his hand into the box, but Moody immediately closed the lid.

"Of course, at the moment, you do not need them. I will safeguard them until they are used."

"It is nice to feel to be trusted so much," Black muttered, but Moody ignored him, and put the box back under his cloak.

"So we are basically prisoners here," said Potter. "We cannot leave without those."

"Why would you want to leave," asked Moody "if not on business? Anyone who has any real reason to leave will be able to do so. But excursions for fun are strictly forbidden now. On this island, we are as safe as possible, and you'd better be a prisoner here than on the other island."

"But what are we going to do here?" asked Lupin. "We have come to attack the prison building, so what are we waiting for?"

"Getting to the prison island," said Moody "is only the first step. We must get inside the prison building, and preferably not as prisoners. For seven people to attack a fortress full of prison guards is an enterprise of dubious value unless we use are brains, not only our strength."

"Could you elaborate?" asked Black.

It was clear that Moody would have liked to keep a few secrets to himself, but in the end he decided otherwise.

"We must capture a prison guard," he explained. "Then one of us can take his place on the island and let the others into the prison building at night, so that we can surprise the real guards. Finally, we will have to take the freed prisoners to safety. Some of them will be able to fly on broomsticks; others will have to be taken care of. This ship will be the vehicle to transport those who cannot travel themselves."

"When are we going to capture our man?" asked Lupin.

"As soon as we can," said Moody. "Two of us – myself and … James," he said, casting a curious glance at Potter, who nodded as though he was answering an unpronounced question, "will begin our attempts today. I do not hope that we will be able to capture a guard at once, as the only way this move makes sense is in complete secrecy. The disappearance must not be noticed before the guard is replaced; therefore we must try to catch someone who would not be missed for a few hours, which means that we must observe the guards first. Finding out their daily routine will be useful anyway."

He threw a stern look at everyone in the cabin at large.

"As we very well know," he said, "the protective enchantments, even the strongest ones, can be broken, so they are nothing else but the equivalent of locking a door. Not foolproof but necessary. Therefore," he added, raising his voice gradually as he spoke, "what we need is CONSTANT VIGILANCE! We must have guards on the ship every hour of every day and every night."

The meeting finished, they were allowed to rest in their cabins or to explore their surroundings. None of them was tired enough to want to stay on the ship, and the exploration began. Moody was the guard this time; and he insisted that Potter at least should take a few hours' rest, as the two of them were going to have a job to do later that day. Potter nodded in agreement and went into the Potter-cabin. Snape expected that he would be ordered to stay behind as well, but Moody had apparently either decided to risk trusting Snape with a walk on that small strip of land or asked someone else to keep an eye on him.

Feeling rather awkward, Snape silently joined Lily, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, who seemed to be waiting for someone not far from the ship. He did not want to give Moody the impression that he was deliberately taking a walk by himself with some clandestine purpose.

The others did not object to his presence, and Snape was too occupied with his own thoughts to register that Potter, obviously defying Moody's order, joined them, too. He only noticed him when all six of them set out together. Surely, James Potter did not need to worry about losing Moody's trust!

Potter and his friends immediately became immersed in an animated conversation that Snape had neither the wish nor the chance to take part in and he soon allowed the others to leave him behind - nobody took note - and he drifted away, eventually hitting a different path, continuing the walk alone.

There was very little to explore. The island was completely flat and contained nothing else but pine trees, which covered most of its soil. It had a long, narrow shape and a cool, northern climate, with very long days and very short nights at this time of the year. The fauna apparently consisted of birds and insects only, but as he was getting deeper and deeper into the pine forest, Snape could feel the increasingly intense presence of magic. The place obviously had magic of its own, apart from the spells that the Order had planted around it.

He found a small, deep pool in the forest, its water clear and transparent. On its shore, a tree trunk provided a natural seat in the shadow of a large rock. He sat down and began to ponder the chances of their endeavour. No one seemed to consider it possible that they might fail, even Moody, who always anticipated the worst, appeared to be confident that they would eventually manage to free the prisoners - even if they all perished in the attempt.

Snape was sure that none of them knew the Dark Lord as well as he did - none of them, perhaps not even the old auror, had seen the extent of his power and the power of his brains the way he had seen it - and the memory made him shudder a little.

He wondered if the Dark Lord could be truly ignorant of their plans. Of course, not even the Dark Lord was able to do everything. The Dark Lord had never tried to openly confront Dumbledore yet, and, as far as Snape knew, the Longbottoms were still alive somewhere, out of his reach. Still, the most powerful dark wizard of the century could possess the means to discover a plan that at least eight people were privy to. Or he could guess that Dumbledore would sooner or later attempt an attack, and he could have doubled the protection around the prison. Were they prepared for such a turn of events?

He looked round as though he was already expecting the Dark Lord to step out from behind a tree, but the only life he spotted was a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Its wings fluttered a little as Snape bent closer to it. He did not know why, but he suddenly imagined that the butterfly symbolised the Dark Lord's prisoners, and perhaps it was a sign - if he saved the butterfly, the prisoners would be saved as well.

It was an absolutely childish idea. It was in fact an almost forgotten habit of his childhood - when he had been insecure about the success of what he was going to do (and very often he had been), he had always tried to find something ordinary but symbolic that, in his imagination, could represent the hoped for event with its success or failure.

It had been a long time since he had last done anything similar. He did not believe in primitive imitation magic any more, but now he could not leave the symbolic act undone. He carefully picked up the butterfly, took it out of the spider's web, and the butterfly was now balancing at the tip of a long finger. In his childhood, it had been an important part of the "magic" to think of a condition and a result in precise terms.

_If the butterfly flies away, the mission will be successful_.

The butterfly rose into the air and flew toward the pool. Snape watched it fly until he glimpsed something on the surface of the water. He started and then stared at the reflection of the familiar face with a thumping heart. Lily was bending over the pool on the other side of the rock, washing her hands and face in the water. She rose and smiled at him.

"I slipped and grabbed a thorny bush and got my hand cut," she explained to Snape.

"Let me see," he said, reaching for her still slightly bleeding hand.

"Nothing serious," she answered softly, but let him examine her hand nevertheless.

"I hope it was not a poisonous plant," he said.

But the wound was not very deep and, as he traced his wand over the injury, he soon found that it was just an ordinary cut. His wand would recognize all toxic materials, he had no doubt about _that_. Snape murmured a spell, and the wound healed at once.

"Thanks," she said, leaning her back against the large rock.

Snape felt some inexplicable warmth in his cheeks. He was certain that Lily could have healed the wound herself just as well as he could, and that he benefited more from helping her than Lily from receiving his help. Still, she was kind enough to thank him.

"Did you know that pools in magical pine forests were said to be able to show the future?" asked Lily suddenly.

"No, I didn't," he replied. "I am not a Divination expert."

"It is more like a legend than real divination," said Lily, who knew full well that legends and tales were no more Snape's area of expertise than Divination. "They say if you look into a pool like this one at a certain time of the day - most often it is sunrise, but it may be different in some places - you can see your future reflected on the surface of the water."

"Would you like to try?" he asked just to say something, carefully avoiding her eyes.

"No," she answered. "It may not be a good thing to know the future in advance ... and anyway... there is usually a price you have to pay in such places."

"What price?"

"For example, you won't be able to smile or laugh any more," she said without the faintest trace of irony in her voice.

They stood still, watching the pool for a minute.

"Can you feel the presence of magic here?" Snape asked when the silence between them had grown heavy.

"Yes, very much," she said, smiling. "I wanted to find magical spots on the island, and that is how I got to this place."

Snape thought it would indeed be a most unreasonable price to pay if she lost her smile in return for a glimpse into the future.

"I read about the islands in this area before coming here," Lily continued. "It is mentioned that several magical stones were found here in the past."

"Such as?"

"Such as the Stone of Loss," said Lily. "It is a small blue stone, which is allegedly the solidified form of water nymphs' tears."

"You are not _looking for_ one though?" Snape said somewhat sharply.

Lily shook her head.

"Of course, I'm not! I know very well that you have to experience a great loss before you can find it, and even if you can ask the stone to become the kind of magical object that you want it to be, most great losses cannot be compensated for by any magical objects."

That was certainly true_,_ and who would have known it better than Snape? He thought it wise to change the topic.

"You are still fond of legends and other stories," he said.

"And fairy tales," nodded Lily, "including the Muggle ones. I want to tell my son all the tales and legends of wizards and all the Muggle fairy tales that my parents used to tell me."

Her eyes began to shine brightly as soon as she mentioned her son. Snape was unsure how to respond. He had no experience with children at all, and the memories of his own childhood were nothing to boast about.

"Where is your son now?" he asked finally.

"We left him in the care of a good friend," Lily replied. "I hope we will get home to him within a few days."

The mention of Lily's family reminded him of something.

"Why have you been walking alone?"

He peered into the dark of the forest half- expecting Potter to all of a sudden jump into sight.

"The others are playing," she answered lightly.

"Playing"? Snape asked in an incredulous tone.

Lily shrugged.

"They're throwing sticks to Sirius."

Seeing his bewildered expression, she broke into a ringing laughter.

"Never mind," she said, wiping her eyes. "They are just being childish."

But before Snape could respond, she turned serious again.

"I have wanted to say," she said gingerly, "that I'm sorry to hear about that article. Dumbledore said you were really upset."

"Did he?" Snape muttered, rather wishing she had brought up a less embarrassing topic.

"Yes ... I hope it will be all right."

"I hope, too," he answered vaguely.

"If you need witnesses," she continued, "you can count on me ... and James, of course."

"Thanks."

But he thought that he would sooner die than live to see the day when he needed James Potter's help to keep him out of Azkaban.


	4. On Guard Duty

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of HP. It belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 4**

_On Guard Duty_

Lily led Snape back to the others so that they eventually walked back to the ship together. Potter was markedly silent as Snape and Lily emerged from the depth of the forest, but Black was shouting to him from afar.

"Good thing that we have found you, Snape! We were looking for you everywhere! Moody would have killed us if we had lost you!"

He laughed at his own joke, which by no means qualified as a joke in Snape's opinion. If there had ever been a man who could laugh at everything, it was Sirius Black. He remained alone with his laughter this time - unless one counted Pettigrew's momentary idiotic giggle.

Snape merely stared at Black - not because of his inexplicable glee but because Black's hair was completely wet, as though he had been taking a walk in heavy rain. Potter must have noticed and correctly interpreted Snape's stare, since he quickly dried his friend's hair with his wand. Black reacted by shaking his already dry black mane around.

"Forgetful me!" he said with mock regret, and, catching Potter's glance, he laughed again.

Now that he was approaching the tiny port in broad daylight, Snape was able to take a better look at the ship, and he saw her graceful shape, white and blue colours and the golden letters glittering on her side: Silvana.

He did not see how Potter managed to sneak back without being noticed by Moody. The mystery was, however, solved later, when Moody and Potter got ready for their first excursion to the Dark Lord's island.

Snape did not consider approaching the island in the daytime a particularly good idea; but before he could voice this opinion, the auror's plan became crystal clear. With their auxiliary wands, Potter and Moody stepped across the protective enchantments engulfing the island; then Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of clothing. He donned it - and vanished! Snape hissed, but no one else seemed to find anything strange in what they had just witnessed. So Potter had an invisibility cloak... Snape wondered how long this item had been in Potter's possession. It could explain a great deal about Potter back at school. Moody disappeared under another cloak.

Snape and Pettigrew were the guards on the Silvana for the rest of the day. Lily hurried into the Potter-cabin, while Black and Lupin volunteered to patrol the coast.

As they were left alone, Pettigrew began casting worried glances at Snape. He looked every bit a Gryffindor with cold feet. Snape thought he knew what made his co-guard nervous and his lips slowly curled up.

"I-it's nice to see you a-again, Severus," stammered Pettigrew unexpectedly, with false cordiality on his round face.

"Then look at me well," said Snape with a smile that made Pettigrew's freeze. "You have been told, haven't you?"

Pettigrew's eyes grew huge with unmistakable fear.

"What... who.... what do you mean, Severus?"

"Told to watch me," Snape answered through gritted teeth. "The Death Eater..."

At this, Pettigrew jumped and backed away from Snape.

"No-o... How ... how can you say that?" he squealed with such terror that Snape blinked in surprise. He had not expected to be _so_ effective.

"Don't lie to me," he snapped. "Just do your job, I don't care. I'll watch the ship and you can watch me." He shrugged. "You can report whatever you see."

He got to his feet and began to walk, gesturing to Pettigrew to follow him. Pettigrew obeyed, but Snape could tell that he was feeling very uncomfortable. Snape was not sorry for him in the least. When they stepped out onto the open deck, Pettigrew resorted to begging.

"Please, Severus, there is no reason for you to do that... We are both guarding the ship, and that is all. I don't.... don't want to follow you around."

"Do as you please," said Snape, and Pettigrew hurried away. A few minutes later, he was sitting in the crow's nest, as far away as possible from Snape, who was very satisfied with this arrangement. If Pettigrew watched their surroundings from above, he would patrol the Silvana.

He stared into the air, but saw no sign of anything suspicious. He wondered how precisely Potter and Moody had managed to Apparate to the Dark Lord's island. Even if they were invisible, they had to avoid making noises or bumping into anyone, let alone setting off the magical alarm. He shuddered at the memory. How could two equally silent and invisible wizards work safely together in that environment?

Lily was anxiously peering into the distance, in the direction of the prison island, as though she could hope to catch a glimpse of two invisible travellers beyond the misty horizon. She turned when she heard Snape's approaching footsteps.

He stopped a few steps away from her. Lily's expression did not make it clear whether he was welcome or not.

"Is everything all right?" Snape asked. "I didn't mean to disturb you...I didn't realize you were outside."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm just ... worried. James is so restless. I wanted to go with him."

"He's got that cloak," Snape pointed out in an attempt to reassure her.

_Merlin's beard, had Lily become an Order member to watch over Potter?_

"Yes," she smiled gloomily. "It used to be his father's... James thinks he is invincible under it."

Snape stepped a little closer to her.

"Moody is with him," he said. "Isn't he a most accomplished auror?"

There was a short pause.

"You don't like Moody, do you?"

"I assure you the dislike is entirely mutual" said Snape grimly.

Now it was Lily who took a step toward Snape, and she put her hand lightly on his arm.

"He is a good man... strict but good. An experienced auror... it is difficult to earn his trust."

Snape let out a hollow laughter.

"I don't think I have a chance with him... but it does not matter."

His eyes were on Lily's hand, still resting on his arm, and the spot where she touched him felt close to catching fire when she withdrew her hand finally.

"I'm glad that you are at Hogwarts," she said. "Dumbledore thinks it was a very good idea to keep you there."

Snape wondered how Lily knew what Dumbledore thought.

"Dumbledore is ... quite an exceptional wizard," he replied clumsily.

"I agree with him about you."

"You are exceptional, too," he muttered.

A light tremble ran through her body.

"It's getting chilly," she said.

"You can have my cloak," said Snape, who was very far from being cold.

Lily smiled.

"Thanks, but I'd better go inside. You're on guard with Peter, is that right?"

"Yes," he said. "But he gave me the slip."

"Don't be too hard on him," said Lily almost playfully now. "See you later, Severus."

He stood stricken for a few moments, but then he remembered that he had a duty, and began to walk about the ship again. It would have been just another lonely job if he had not been able to feel the continuous presence of something bright and warm around him, if he had not known that Lily was quite near all the time. He passed her several times later in the afternoon as he was patrolling the decks, and once she brought him a cup of hot tea. It was quite late now and Black and Lupin were neither to be seen nor to be heard anywhere. But it was not getting dark yet, and the sun-lit northern night brightened his soul.

The ominous feeling that signalled immediate trouble punctured this little bubble of quasi-happiness when he noticed that the Silvana was significantly deeper in water than before.

Snape dashed toward the ladder leading downwards to look for the source of the problem. He ran past Pettigrew dozing on a chair not far from the ladder. Astonished, Snape stopped, turned back, and grabbed Pettigrew's robes.

"Wake up, moron!" he roared. "The ship is sinking!"

With Pettigrew at his heels, he reached the bottom of the ship, where the water was already quite high. Snape raised his wand, and it soon pointed in the direction where he immediately discovered the hole. Walking in water, he struggled closer to the opening, and directed his wand at it.

"Reparo!" he shouted. The hole remained, the spell obviously did not work, and the water was coming.

"REPARO!"

No success again.

"Pettigrew!" Snape yelled, but no answer came. He spun round but saw his fellow guard nowhere.

"The filthy coward," Snape hissed, as he was trying to plug the leak with his magically enlarged cloak.

He fought his way back to the ladder. On the upper deck, he met a very pale Lily, just sending up red sparks. Black and Lupin came running, wands held high. It was twilight now, and the twilight brought back Potter and Moody at last.

"James!" Lily screamed and flew to her husband, who had all of a sudden materialized out of thin air.

"What's going on?" growled Moody, eyeing Snape suspiciously.

"The ship is damaged," panted Snape. "I can't repair the hole."

None of them could, try as they might, not even Moody.

"We must move the ship out of water immediately," the auror commanded. "Hurry up, everyone!"

His severe gaze surveyed the little team.

"Where is Peter?" he asked.

They found him on the shore.

"Of course!" shouted Black, cuffing his friend on the back so hard that Pettigrew nearly collapsed. "It's always the rats that leave a sinking ship first!"

Black laughed, and, to Snape's amazement, Pettigrew laughed as well. Snape could not imagine ever having a friend whom he would allow to call him a rat publicly or even privately. Otherwise Black was completely right. Pettigrew did remind one of a rat, and, in Snape's opinion, he had behaved most cowardly, too.

"Attention, everyone!" thundered Moody. "We all must act together now!"

They lined up beside the Silvana, each of them pointing a wand at the vehicle, most of which was already under water.

"On the count of three, everyone," said Moody. "One, two, three!"

"Mobilinavis!!!"

The multiplied spell hit the Silvana, which slowly rose out of the water and began floating toward the shore. She turned in the air, and, with her front ahead, she nimbly glided among the pine trees, and smoothly landed somewhere behind the group.

They all followed her into the forest.

"We must camp here," said Moody, looking around. "The forest can be defended better than the shore. We will use tents until we manage to repair the ship. I hope you are all aware of what has just happened."

"Of course," said Potter. "The ship got a leak and almost sank."

Moody scrutinized him disapprovingly.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared so suddenly and with such force that his voice startled each of them. "How did the ship get a hole that cannot be repaired with the usual magic?"

"By means of dark magic," said Snape. He had realized that soon enough and was surprised by the idea that it might not have been obvious to all.

"That's right," Moody growled. "And dark magic does not happen by accident," he added.

Snape knew that there were only two kinds of conclusions Moody could draw, and now he would either be suspected of sinking the Silvana or accused of neglecting his duty.

"What did the guards see?" asked the auror.

"I noticed that the ship was sinking," said Snape. "I did not see or hear anything suspicious apart from that."

"Nor did I," squealed Pettigrew.

"You should have," said Moody angrily. "Someone must have come to or near this island unless -" the penetrating glance that he threw at Snape expressed as much as any words could have.

Snape glared back at him without blinking.

"We must strengthen our defences," said the auror finally.

Moody kept a furious Snape by his side, as he was testing the original wards, while the others were following him, recasting the protective spells around the island. For the sake of this job, Moody had given an auxiliary wand to each of them except the two ex-guards, who were both in complete disgrace now, although Pettigrew was not suspected of any intentional wrongdoing. Moody also ordered them to stay close together and keep their wands ready to fight.

Snape watched the old auror, and knew that he could not find the spot where the wards had been broken or weakened. Despite his anger, Snape could not deny (deep down) that there was some truth in what Moody had said. Someone must have been on the island or near it to damage the ship. Yet, he had not noticed anyone or anything. It was an annoying failure, a real failure, and this knowledge itself was more irritating than Moody's wordless accusation.

Why had he not noticed? Pettigrew had not noticed either, but Pettigrew had been asleep, and Snape had never thought much of his abilities anyway. He, however, had not been sleeping, and lack of talent or intelligence was no excuse, _could be_ no excuse, in _his _case. He had been talking to Lily, but even then he could have, he _should_ have realized that the Silvana was being approached by strangers.

Moody interrogated everyone if they had seen anything suspicious, anything that could be a sign of human presence besides them on the island, but nobody had noted anything unusual. Still, Moody decided to examine the island casting Homenum revelio all over the place. Snape was ordered to accompany him though obviously not because the old man required his help.

The spell, however, revealed no traces of anyone else being on the island. Snape followed Moody onto the ship, which had been more or less dried by this time. The auror looked at him sharply.

"I need your wand," he announced.

Snape's wand hand had long been in the pocket where he kept his wand. He grabbed it strongly now.

"Try to take it away from me," he snapped.

Moody slowly shook his head.

"I did not call you here to fight a duel with you, Snape. I'm an auror and your commander now, and I must see your wand. Or does this place seem like a holiday camp to you?"

The contempt accompanying the auror's words fuelled Snape's anger and his dislike, making it impossible for him to trust Moody. He hesitated. On the one hand, the auror might just want to examine his wand, which he could not refuse without justifying the suspicions; on the other hand, however, he could find himself disarmed and defenceless if he gave up his wand. For all he knew, Moody could already have persuaded himself that Snape was the culprit. Still, there was very little he could do to keep his wand, short of attacking the auror. Slowly, he handed over the wand, watching Moody closely.

"Priori Incantato!" Moody shouted. He did not do anything else, and Snape, with strictly composed features, allowed him to view the various imprints of magic coming out of the wand one by one as long as he wanted. In the end, Moody had to admit that the ship had not been harmed by Snape's wand, which he then returned to its owner.

"Come with me," he said, leading the way into his cabin.

"Will you check the others' wands, too?" spat Snape, as he obeyed this latest order.

"Good idea," growled the auror over his shoulder. "I will."

In Moody's cabin, there was a whole collection of Sneakoscopes and other magical objects aimed at detecting enemies. They were all silent and motionless now, except for the foggy shapes moving around in a foe glass, which the auror put into his pocket. It seemed the foe glass convinced him that there was no reason to fear an immediate attack.

The passivity of these devices was lucky for Snape, who had already expected Moody to tie him up as a captured wrongdoer. After all, the fact that his_ wand_ was innocent did not prove _his_ innocence beyond doubt. As for Moody's instruments, well, _he_ would never have placed his trust in these pathetic little things, which could be useful when a thief, a fraud or an ordinary enemy was nearby, but anyone acquainted with Dark Magic was well aware of the ways to neutralize them. The Dark Lord never used such objects and for good reason. In fact, it had been him who had taught Snape how to deceive, confuse and destroy all types of magical detectors when he had sent him to spy on Dumbledore; but Snape, of course, knew better than enlighten Moody about this particular skill of his.

All in all, the fact remained that, despite all the protective spells, there was somewhere a mysterious, sinister hole in their wards, causing rightful concern among them. Snape had to overcome his fury to be able to talk to Moody, and he would never have managed to do it if it had not been for his ability to correctly assess this new, dire menace to their safety.

"Don't you want traps?" he asked, still fighting the urge to add something impolite.

"What traps?" barked Moody.

"Magical traps," he explained, "to catch intruders."

The auror regarded him with deep distrust.

"Is that some dark stuff again?"

"It _is_ dark magic," he hissed, "but very useful. New invention."

Since Moody said nothing, Snape attempted to explain.

"They are invisible because they are only magic, nothing else. If anyone steps on them, they'll get trapped. If we plant them densely enough, an intruder would almost surely get caught. Of course, we would have to leave some places clear as exits and entrances, but as long as only _we_ know where they are, it is not likely that outsiders can find them."

Moody stared at Snape hard, evidently torn between two opposing emotions. While he loathed every form of dark magic, he did not underestimate the perils of a compromised defence system.

"All right," he growled in the end. "I suppose that's one of the reasons why you are here. But don't forget, you bear full responsibility for this project."

"Fine," said Snape.

* * *

The Dark Lord's eyes were boring into a pair of terrified hazel eyes. He was apparently oblivious to the painful moans of the human being tied into a chair in front of him. His gaze was long, steady, unblinking. After several long minutes of wordless, motionless staring, a cold smile spread on his face. The hazel eyes closed, as the thin body seemed to be coming out of a tight spasm, falling back limp and broken, supported only by the ropes.

"Well done," said a high, icy voice. "The Dark Lord is satisfied with your service. You will get the reward that you were promised. But be prepared... I want you to be back here, in this room, tomorrow morning."

* * *

Snape spent the rest of the night setting up the magical traps. When he was ready, he taught everyone where they had to pass to avoid them and what spell and password opened them if someone was caught. He explained that a particular password could not be used more than once; therefore a new password was needed after each opening for the magic to continue operating.

In the meantime, the others pitched the tents. There had been several tents on the Silvana; Dumbledore must have calculated with the possibility that the vehicle might become uninhabitable. At the moment, the inside of the ship was a rather sorry sight, and to stay there was not safe enough until every possible sign of dark magic was detected and eliminated on it.

It was morning by the time they had finished putting up their camp and securing it against intruders. Once more, Moody called them together and reminded them of the importance of constant vigilance. He also informed everyone that in the previous afternoon, he and Potter had been able to penetrate the wards of the prison island and explore the neighbourhood of the prison. He did not forget to check the wands of all them (including his own) to test whether any of them had been used by the mysterious enemy. The investigation yielded no results, which surprised no one. Then Moody sent his very exhausted team to bed, insisting that it was again his turn to keep guard, though they had to be prepared to get up at the first note of the alarm sound and start fighting.

No attack came, however, then or in the following days, and the mystery of unanswered questions was hanging above the little camp like a big grey cloud. Nobody understood how someone had managed to break through their defences and sink the ship without anyone noticing them. Moreover, if they were the Dark Lord's servants, why had they been satisfied with such a feeble strike instead of a full-scale attack to capture them all? If the Dark Lord or his servants knew about their plans and had already been able to bypass their magical protection, why did not they try again? If they had not been the Dark Lord's servants, who else could they be?

It was so uncharacteristic of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters that even Snape had to admit (strictly to himself) that Moody's suspicions, however much he was offended by them, were at least understandable now. He did not know what the others thought of these suspicions, but he had no doubt that they knew about them. Otherwise Snape also considered it a rather likely possibility that the intruder may have been on the island before the wards were set up. It did not explain how they had got near the ship undetected, but then again Potter and Moody were not the only people in the world having invisibility cloaks or other means of magical disguise.

The knowledge that it had happened during _his_ turn of keeping guard hurt Snape's pride acutely. True, Pettigrew had been there as well, but Snape considered Pettigrew too insignificant to really share the blame and the shame with him. He noticed that neither of them was trusted with guarding the camp at night (which had gradually become the normal time for rest again), only during times when everyone was up and the guards' responsibility was consequently smaller.

Life in the camp was not very eventful these days. Moody and Potter made daily visits to the prison island (apparently undetected by the prison guards); while the rest of them spent their times bringing the ship back to shape, and doing general jobs of catering and house-keeping or, rather, "tent-keeping". They had three tents: One for the Potters, one for the trio of Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, and one that was shared by Snape and Moody.

It was relatively easy to renovate the ship, removing the traces of the water that had invaded her. It was a more difficult job to repair their various supplies, and some of the food had gone irrevocably off. Their original water supply was contaminated beyond help as well, but there was a spring in the camp area (Lupin was much praised for finding it), where they were able to renew it. The most difficult task was to examine the ship thoroughly, meticulously, for further signs of dark magic damage (they could not discover any) and to fill the hole, without which they had no hope of ever using the Silvana for the purpose she had been made for. The latter promised to be an especially time-consuming job, because, for the time being, the damage resisted every possible way of repairing, Muggle or magical.


	5. Brutus Brockhoist

Disclaimer: The characters and various items belong to J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter**** 5**

_Brutus Brockhoist_

It was an inevitable question whether the attack against the ship warranted a change in their strategies or not. The answer was, however, very simple: They could either go ahead with the plan or give up the mission altogether and go home. No one opted for the latter.

Moody and Potter continued visiting the prison island under their invisibility cloaks undisturbed. Unfortunately, their only achievement was obtaining information. The greenish rock that they saw in place of the prison seemed indeed impregnable. No human eyes could peep inside; no ordinary magic could penetrate the hard stone walls. The guards remained generally elusive, and when they did leave the building, it was always in groups, and not even then did they go very far away from the rock.

Information, however, Moody and Potter managed to gather plenty. They made a detailed map of the island, at least partially observed the daily routine of the guards, and Moody carefully tested the rock, drawing the conclusion that it would not yield to any unauthorized magic. They also spotted a few Death Eaters on the island, which was a worrisomely unusual phenomenon, indicating that the guards might expect a battle. That meant they absolutely needed the help of an insider, and secretly capturing a prison guard was still the most feasible plan that they could think of.

Secretly... Snape wondered if they had any realistic hope of keeping their plan secret from the enemy. That Potter and Moody were still alive and free did not prove the Dark Lord's ignorance of their plan. That the guards were so careful, however, was a bad sign. What if someone had been eavesdropping while they had been discussing the plan the first night?

Moody explained that the magic of that particular cabin was such that it made eavesdropping and overhearing impossible, as only those who were invited and openly present were able to hear what was being discussed. On the other hand, they all had been extremely vigilant since the sinking of the ship, watching out for intruders all the time.

"The only way," said Moody, "the enemy can find out our precise plan is if there is a traitor among us."

Snape did not bring up the question again.

On top of everything else, the Silvana was still out of order, and no other vehicle had been sent to them as yet by the Order, meaning that even a successful attack against the Dark Lord's prison would yield only half-results.

The mission was thus brought to an untimely halt. In consequence, their stay on the island lengthened far beyond what any of them had imagined before.

Snape noticed that Lily was often uneasy and sad; and even Potter seemed a tad less self-confident than at the beginning of their endeavour. Twice they Disapparated from the island to visit their son, and when they returned, Lily hardly spoke for a whole day.

Lupin was growing visibly paler and paler every day, while Black became significantly more restless and impatient than he had been any time before. Snape himself was tense and ill-tempered, mainly as a result of his conviction that Moody (who had not been able to prove his suspicions about Snape after the Silvana had been damaged) was watching him now more than ever. Pettigrew, on the contrary, went out of his way in a nervous attempt to pretend that everything was all right. The old auror was the only one of them whose mood remained unaffected by the situation. He was as grumpy, meticulous and vigilant as before, always expecting the unexpected to happen.

But even Moody showed signs of exhaustion. At the end of the day, unless he was on guard duty, he was usually the first to retreat into the comfort of their tent (complete with a kitchen and a bathroom), causing Snape to stay up and out of their shared bedroom as long as he could, enjoying the privacy of a clearing among the pine trees, where he liked to hide with a book in his hands.

The days were getting long and the nights were very short now, and Snape drew pleasure from watching the hazy white mist on the sky whenever the early sunrise found him still under the trees. He sometimes wished he was not alone, but he had no one else to think about but Lily, and Lily belonged to Potter; and Snape could not even blame her for that. She was with Potter all the time, except during Potter's visits to the prison island, but then she was always surrounded by the others, so that Snape rarely had the opportunity to talk two words with her alone.

Lily often saw to it that Snape, despite his own reluctance, was included in shared tasks, conversations by the fire and other social activities (such as the camp provided), and no one ever objected to his presence, but Snape was not deluding himself. Snape knew perfectly well that _he_ did not belong to _them_; and that in their company he could never be more than an outsider tolerated temporarily for practical reasons. Nor did he ever want to be anything more to any of them.

From their second visit to their child, Lily and Potter brought back a copy of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. It was a sensible idea as most of them had had no connection with the world outside the island for weeks. Though they knew that Moody was in regular contact with Dumbledore, they found out only very little about the communication that was going on between the two old men. Any other communication with friends or family was out of the question (Snape, on his own part, found this rule very easy to observe). Therefore the fresh copy of the Daily Prophet was greeted with great interest by the group.

Although Snape was also curious to find out what was happening in the wizarding world, he was too proud to ask if he could borrow the paper, and, even though several days had passed, nobody offered him the chance to read it. What was more, he did not see or hear the others reading or discussing the Prophet's news at all. In the end, he chanced upon the paper on a quiet afternoon, when Potter and Moody were on the prison island, Black and Pettigrew were the guards, and Snape had just finished brewing a potion to cure a very severe headache at Lily's request for a rather ill-looking Lupin.

He took the potion to the tent shared by Lupin, Black and Pettigrew.

"Take a spoonful every five minutes while the headache lasts," he said. "And sleep more," he added, because Lupin's haggard face reminded him of someone who had not had a good night's rest for days.

"I'll try," Lupin murmured absent-mindedly.

"The potion will do you good, Remus" said Lily encouragingly, having just emerged from the tent's kitchen with a spoon in her hand.

"Thanks," muttered Lupin, stepping towards Lily, with a forced smile. "There is really no need to look after me like this. I can... handle it."

But Lily was eager to help Lupin, and Snape thought of leaving. He glimpsed round though, and it was then that he noticed the newspaper, a corner of it protruding from under one of the three camp beds. He picked it up, and was just opening it when he heard Lupin come back.

"Thanks for the potion, Severus," he said. "I'm feeling better now."

"Do you mind if I have a look at this?" Snape asked, indicating the paper in his hands.

"It's not worth reading at all," Lupin answered somewhat uncomfortably after a few moments of silence. "There is nothing important in it."

Lupin hastily glanced at Lily, who was coming closer to the two of them. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"The Daily Prophet has never been much of a read," he replied, "but when you are as good as stranded on a desert island, and as deprived of information as we are now..."

"Well, I was just going to finish reading it myself..."

Snape was now regretting having asked anything from one of this gang.

"And here I was thinking," he said, putting down the Prophet with disdain, "that anyone who could read would have perused a daily paper with nothing in it in these past days-"

Struck by a sudden suspicion, he stopped. Was Lupin for some reason trying to _prevent_ him reading the news?

"Severus," Lily said in a small voice, "don't be angry with Remus. I didn't want you to see it because I thought you wouldn't like it, but... well, if you insist..."

Snape's fingers were already turning the pages of the newspaper at a rapid speed. Soon enough, he found the page where his own photograph (where and when had it been taken?) was glaring at him angrily.

_Severus Snape: Have you seen him lately?_

_It seems the wizard currently facing a Ministry investigation due to widely discussed (and never formally denied) accusations has disappeared from Hogwarts. Our local correspondent in Hogsmeade has not managed to discover any substantial information concerning his whereabouts. _

_Instead of being arrested by the __aurors, the alleged Death Eater was permitted to stay at large during the "initial phase" of the criminal procedure, a decision of highly questionable wisdom... _

That was more than enough. The newspaper fell rustling onto the floor of the tent and he turned to leave, but found himself face to face with Lily.

"Don't pay any attention to them," she said. "Moody is an auror, and he knows where you are and what you are doing. Dumbledore knows, too. It does not matter what the Prophet may write."

"Naturally," he answered slowly. "It does not matter."

Gently, he pushed Lily out of the way and stepped into the open air. He closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply to ease the tension. Ridiculous. Certainly nothing had changed. What had happened was only what could be expected, what _he_ had expected, nothing worse. It felt horrible to have it rubbed in again, but he was able to bear it. He had defied the Dark Lord. He had overcome himself. He had looked a Dementor in the eye. _This_ could be no more difficult.

His eyes flung open as he heard the sudden noise around him. Moody and Potter had returned from their trip, leading a slightly cross-eyed stranger between them. The stranger's hands were tied with ropes, and he walked in an unsteady manner. Potter's right arm was bleeding heavily.

In a matter of moments, everyone was gathered in the tent which belonged to Moody and Snape. Lily was tending Potter's injury, while the stranger was placed safely into a chair, the rest of them standing close around him.

"Veritaserum," said Moody.

Snape went to his potion stock, and found the required liquid. Moody poured three drops down the man's throat, then took a parchment and a quill out of his trunk.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Brutus Brockhoist," replied the man in a slow, mechanical voice.

The quill began to make notes immediately.

"What do you do?" Moody continued.

"I guard the Dark Lord's prison," said Brutus Brockhoist.

"Where were you going when we caught you?"

"I got permission to visit my girlfriend."

"When do you have to return to the island?"

"By nine o'clock this evening."

"How do you get inside the prison?"

"The wand that he", Brockhoist indicated Potter with his head, "took from me opens a door on the side of the rock."

"Is there a password?"

"Yes. Slytherin's snake."

"How many guards are there?"

The questions came swiftly, at an even pace, like a dexterous craftsman's hammer hitting the nail always precisely on the head, as though Moody had practised them many times in advance. Being interrogated by the old auror in this manner must have been utterly unpleasant; this much was evident from the prison guard's troubled expression even though he could not help answering all the questions promptly and truthfully. As the interrogation continued, and the magical quill was making detailed notes of names and ways of addressing, daily routines and the plan of the inside of the prison building, Snape thought of Dumbledore, who alone had stood between him and an experience quite similar to Brutus Brockhoist's.

When Moody was finally satisfied with the amount of information, the captive guard was locked into a cabin of the Silvana, an exhausted Potter was ordered to take a rest (Lily accompanied him), and the rest of the group sat down to discuss their next move.

"Have you got the Polyjuice Potion ready?" Moody asked Snape.

"Of course," he said curtly.

"Who is going to take it?" asked Black.

Moody gazed grimly at the little group.

"One of us here," he replied. "James has done enough today, and I don't suppose we want to send Lily to the prison to impersonate our man."

"You have done enough, too," Black pointed out. "Besides, as the leader, you must stay with the group. That leaves the four ... no, the three of us."

Black cast a swift look at Lupin, who was staring at the floor silently, apparently struggling with the headache again.

"Shall we draw lots?"

"I will go," said Snape and Pettigrew at the same time.

Snape glared at Pettigrew, who gaped back at him sheepishly.

"I can do it, too," Black said quickly.

"I doubt _that_," Snape snapped. "You two would give yourselves away in no time. I've never been a prison guard but at least I know how things go among the Dark Lord's servants. It's a very dangerous job."

Black snorted, but, to everyone's surprise, it was Pettigrew who began to argue with Snape.

"The prison guard has told us all the information we need. I can do it as well as you could. And I'm not afraid of the dangers!"

"That's how Gryffindors talk," Black declared proudly.

"Excellent," Snape snarled, "you still can't tell the difference between stupidity and courage, can you?"

"You could teach us the difference, Snape," Black retorted. "It's a pity we are not sitting in the comfortable shade of the Whomping Willow. That would be the ideal place for telling educational stories."

Snape's face darkened.

"The question is whether we want a living spy or a dead hero out there," he hissed.

The question is," Pettigrew mumbled "whether we want a spy for _ourselves_ - or an informant for _them_."

He speedily hid behind his Gryffindor friends, as Snape jumped from his seat.

"Say that again," he spat, glowering over the living shield formed by Black and Lupin, their wands raised.

"Silence!" roared the auror. "Sit down, all of you! I am _not_ going to tolerate fighting among us!"

They sat down, Pettigrew still muttering under his breath, Snape fuming. He did not at all fancy going back to the Dark Lord's prison even in the disguise of a prison guard but he could not imagine that any of the Gryffindors would be able to pretend to be the Dark Lord's servant with any success. With _his_ range of experience, _he_ might succeed.

Besides, if he was caught, he would be less likely to endanger the whole team. As a Death Eater, he had become used to the Dark Lord's Legilimency tests and had developed a way to resist without being found out. He was almost sure that neither Black nor Pettigrew had the necessary skills to keep secrets from the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord discovered what they knew, it would mean immediate mortal danger for _all_ of them - and Snape had not joined the Order to allow that to happen.

"Why does anyone have to be sent there in disguise?" Black asked suddenly. "We've got the bloke's wand, which seems to be all we need, so we could just go there together and force the prison open."

This time Snape agreed with him.

"Even that makes more sense than sending someone totally incapable..." he began.

Moody, who had been considering the suggestion for a minute, shook his head.

"It is too late to change the plan," he said. "The guard must return to the prison before nine o'clock or they will know that something has happened and the surprise will be spoilt - unless we attack the prison tonight. But James is injured and that means we would be two people short... We cannot attack tonight."

He sighed.

"Someone must take the risk and go there - and let us in tomorrow night secretly."

"Why don't you trust me?" Pettigrew burst out. "I may not be as good as you at fighting, but _this_, I'm sure I can do. They won't find me out, I promise!"

Snape let out a sharp, disparaging sound, but Black patted Pettigrew on the shoulder.

"We trust you, mate... sure we do," he said, audibly amazed and moved. (Snape was appalled.) "But we must consider... well, perhaps it would be wiser if I -"

"All right," Moody interposed. "Peter will get this job since he is so confident that he can do it. The rest of you can prove yourselves during the siege."

"He will crack as soon as the Chief of the Guards looks at him for the first time," Snape growled, realizing too late that pretending to support Pettigrew's idea would probably have been a better way to undermine it.

"I'm proud of you, Wor- ... Peter," Black said aloud.

"How are we going to communicate?" Moody asked. "Using a Patronus while you are impersonating You-Know-Who's servant may be too difficult and dangerous. What is your Patronus, by the way?"

Pettigrew flushed.

"M-my P-p-patronus?" he stuttered. Black came to his rescue.

"No problem, Peter. We know that the Patronus Charm is not your strong point, but I can lend you my two-way mirror. James's got the other one. You know how to use it."

He winked at Pettigrew.

"And you can take my invisibility cloak," the auror added. "Just in case."

Pettigrew thanked them both, and Snape resignedly reached for the Polyjuice Potion that he had been keeping ready for use.

"One more ingredient is needed, of course" he announced.

"Go and get it then," barked Moody impatiently.

With an angry frown, Snape put the potion bottle into his pocket and left the tent to visit the prisoner of the Silvana.


	6. The Orange Moon

Disclaimer: The characters and various other things belong to J.K. Rowling. It is a pleasure to borrow them and play with them.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter**** 6**

_The Orange Moon_

Pettigrew was gone before half past eight. By this time Snape had not only got a few hairs from Brutus Brockhoist and put them into the Polyjuice Potion (deciding to say it was a toe nail - or maybe something worse - if Pettigrew should ask), but he had also subjected the man to thorough Legilimency just to be on the safe side (he found nothing in the prison guard's mind to contradict what he had said under the influence of Veritaserum); made the man change robes (Pettigrew needed the prison guard's uniform, of course); spent at least an hour teaching Pettigrew the behaviour patterns acceptable among the Dark Lord's servants and the continuous use of Polyjuice Potion; and finally sat down with the others to an early dinner by the open fire.

Pettigrew had spent some time with Moody as well, receiving his detailed instructions about his job and learning - as Snape, to his surprise, overheard - that the auxiliary wand Pettigrew was permitted to take along could be switched off (so that no one would be able to use it) with a simple spell. Pettigrew was to perform this spell as soon as he thought that the auxiliary wand was going to fall into the enemy's hands.

At dinner, Potter, who, despite his injury, was feeling much better now, opened a bottle of Firewhisky to drink to their spy's health and to the success of the mission. Moody protested at first.

"This is a serious job and I don't want a bunch of intoxicated -"

"No one will be intoxicated," Potter assured him. "We are just drinking a shot each in Peter's honour. He will play the role of ol' Brutus all the better for it."

As they had indeed found a small dark bottle of Firewhisky in their prisoner's pocket (the contents of which had since been replaced with Polyjuice Potion), and since the man did smell of alcohol even without the bottle, Moody accepted the reasoning that Pettigrew would seem more authentic with the help of a little Firewhisky. Pettigrew apparently enjoyed being in the centre of attention, or (as Snape suspected) he realized that he needed a strong drink to keep the newly discovered lion in himself alive, because he enthusiastically helped Potter (who had difficulties due to his wounded arm) pour the contents of the bottle into the diminutive goblets Moody had approved of.

And so Pettigrew left for the prison island, sporting the shape, the robes, the wand and the broomstick of Brutus Brockhoist. His own wand, the auxiliary wand and the potion, as well as Black's two-way mirror and Moody's invisibility cloak, were hidden in various inside pockets of the "borrowed" robes.

Soon Moody felt very tired, and found that he needed an early sleep. He decided to go to bed immediately and to get up and take over guard duty later at night. Black, who had been relieved since his afternoon watch by Lily, said he had rested enough and volunteered to keep guard until then. Moody accepted the offer since Potter and Lupin were injured and ill, respectively, and he still did not consider trusting Snape with the night watch.

The auror hurried away. Lupin and Black likewise disappeared, and Snape did not feel like staying with Potter and Lily, who were sitting close to each other, probably wishing to be left alone. Nor did Snape want to follow Moody into their shared tent yet, therefore he ended up in his favourite refuge among the trees again, waiting for the signs of sleepiness, which were not coming, and trying hard not to think of Lily illuminated by the fire, Lily with her hand in James Potter's hand, Lily drawing closer to Potter, and Potter putting his arm round her shoulder with a casual movement that had made Snape's throat dry.

The images kept coming back and he was tormented by the emotions they aroused in him. He could not even tell how many days had passed since they had arrived at the Order's island together and he was still assailed by intense pangs of jealousy every time he saw Lily with Potter. He should have closed down his mind, but it was too late now: the fragrance of May in the air, the subdued light of the forest filtering through the branches and the aroma of pine resin invaded his imagination and brought up more images, ones that Snape had never seen in reality but was unable not to imagine.

He was in this half-sane state when he heard the whispers behind the trees. His head jerked up as he recognized Lily's voice and Potter's voice, and he understood words that were obviously not meant for a third person's ears. He closed his eyes, shocked and mortified and willing them to go away, but their words were penetrating into his mind, stirring in his nerves, taking away the last of his calm... As the voices neither stopped, nor got any further away, he edged towards the far end of the clearing, breathless, and as soon as he had put another row of trees between himself and the maddening, terrifying voices, he broke into a run. He did not care where he was heading, except away, far away from them...

He must have been out of his mind; that was the only explanation for his carelessness, his inattention; and being out of one's mind was what only the weak and the stupid indulged themselves in; and he had to pay for it. He stumbled and fell flat on the ground. He let out a yell and a hiss, but it took him quite a few seconds to be able to sort out the different kinds of pain striking him at the same time.

He had hit his head against a tree trunk hard enough to have vibrating sparks dancing in front of his eyes for several moments before allowing him to become aware of a very different but no less nasty sensation in his left arm. He knew this feeling all too well; and there was nothing he could do against it. The Dark Lord was calling his followers, and the Dark Mark on Snape's forearm was burning and tingling quite as sharply as in his Death Eater days - more, in fact, and longer, probably because he had no intention to answer the call any more.

But the pain itself was nothing compared to the anxiety it induced. Could it be a mere coincidence? Why was the Dark Lord calling his servants at this time? Feeling the Dark Mark burn while knowing what they were going to attempt in just twenty-four hours seemed much more sinister than going through the same experience in the safety of Hogwarts. If that moron of a Gryffindor had let himself be found out upon arrival at the prison island, the Dark Lord had already had plenty of time to turn his mind inside out, obtain the auxiliary wand and come up with a plan to kill them all. He must inform the others immediately. As the acute soreness in his forearm was gradually ceasing, he attempted to stand up, and it was then that he realized that a third kind of pain in his legs (which he had so far ignored) signalled trouble much more immediate than whatever the Dark Lord might be doing at the moment.

He could not get back to his feet. He was trapped - trapped in one of his own magical traps; and there was no way he could free himself. He was lying on the slightly wet soil under the pine trees, helpless, his feet in an invisible trap, with no chance of getting away on his own.

It was difficult to accept the situation. Snape wriggled and struggled but his only achievement was that he painfully turned onto his back. Unfortunately, that could hardly be considered an improvement. In the end, he gave up and lay silently, forcing himself to think rationally. It was impossible to open the trap by anyone caught in it, therefore he was compelled to wait until someone freed him, although the very idea of being seen thus trapped and immobilized was utterly humiliating. Still, he had to call for help, to send up sparks for the guard to notice.

The guard was Black so he would have to be rescued by him - again. That prospect caused a bitter taste in Snape's mouth though he could not deny that being found in this shameful position by Potter or Lily would be even worse. If he was able to choose, he would probably choose Moody to rescue him... He had no reason to like the auror or to want him anywhere near where he was, but he could hardly sink any lower in Moody's eyes anyway, and the auror was perhaps less likely than Black and his friends to consider the situation a laugh. Moody was, however, sleeping, and it was not worth waiting until he woke up.

He reached for his wand, but it was not in its usual place. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he had fallen or during his mindless effort to overcome the magic of the trap by sheer physical power, - that was, at least, his best hope because in that case he could still find it. It was not easy though to look for a wand among the fallen pine needles in the twilight and in the shadow of tall trees. The fact that he was lying on his back did not help either, but it was impossible to turn around once more without breaking his legs, one of which was already suspiciously numb.

Though he had actually hesitated before resolving to send up sparks, the possibility that he might not have a chance to do it at all put the whole matter into a completely different perspective. Now he wanted nothing more than receive help as soon as possible. He began to feel around for his wand, examining the forest ground inch by inch in the course of a grotesque series of stretching exercises. After what appeared to be an unbearably long time, his fingers finally touched and grabbed his wand.

He let out a sigh of relief, allowed himself a minute to relax his muscles and savour his triumph, and he was just about to use his wand at last when he heard soft cracking and rustling noises and the sound of a human voice. Someone was undoubtedly coming towards him, several people in fact, by the sound of it; and Snape's wand hand halted in midair, and he began to listen. He could not afford to be choosy; still he preferred to know who was approaching before calling out. Someone spoke, and the very first word that he caught rendered Snape silent and motionless, longing to hear more.

"Lily should not have come here," said Remus Lupin, evidently in the middle of a conversation. "James knows that."

"Why not?" said another, deeper voice... Black's voice. "She is the bravest girl I've ever seen."

"Because they have a child," Lupin answered. "One of them should be with him. That's why they are nervous."

"It is taking much longer than we thought," said Black. "We hoped to be back at home by now."

Snape was biting his lips. The idea of Lily having a child combined with the images that had recently been through his mind was enough to inflame his brain even in this desperate position. He had known before that Lily had a child; he had known that the child was also Potter's child, but this was the first time he had thought of that kid as a symbol of Lily being for ever, irrevocably lost to him. It was as though he had just found out that Lily was living in a different universe.

"It is not only the time," said Lupin. "No matter how well Harry is being taken care of; with both parents in battle..." Lupin's voice was barely more than a whisper now, and Snape could not make out the words.

"What makes you say that?" said Black sharply.

They were quite close now, and they seemed to have stopped.

"Remember what happened in September?" asked Lupin. "They almost died. Both! I know this is war, but what would be of little Harry if both his parents died in battle now?"

Snape was struggling to get the image of a dead Lily out of his mind, and he still could not speak.

"Why would they..." said Black, but his voice had changed. "If they did, I would bring Harry up. I'm his godfather! He would be proud of his parents."

"I know, Padfoot" said Lupin, "but-"

"If I die, too, I'm sure _you_ will raise him, Moony."

There was a bitter little laughter.

"And a fine foster father I would make, too! Poor child!"

"Or Wormtail," said Black stubbornly. "We are their friends..."

Snape should have called out a long time ago, but he was holding his breath instead. It seemed the longer he listened, the more difficult it was to decide to call their attention to himself.

"Yes, we are," answered Lupin, "and we are all here. We all may die, don't you see?"

"Why are you talking like this?" snapped Black. And after a short pause: "We can't all die... we can't."

"Maybe it's just the full moon," said Lupin soothingly. "I get strange thoughts on these nights... while I _can_ think, of course."

The full moon! Snape stared up at the sky, frozen, but he could see very little of it. There were trees everywhere above him. Would the moon be full tonight? Was Lupin going to transform ... _right there_?

How could he be so stupid and miss the obvious signs... True, he had lost count of the days, and he had not been watching the moon lately, but Lupin's terrible headache, the unhealthy colours of his face should not have escaped his notice. Despite everyone's tactful silence, he should have realized what was coming, and he _would_ have realized it had it not been for the article of the Prophet, for Brockhoist and for his worries about Pettigrew...

"I'll stay with you, mate" said Black warmly.

"No, Padfoot, thanks. Just lock the cabin door behind me, and I'll be all right. We must be quite close now."

"A few more minutes and we are there. Mind the traps."

The two men started walking again. Snape wished he knew how much time Lupin had left before transforming. Stopping them did not seem now an unquestionably good idea. Perhaps he should wait until the werewolf was safely locked up and send up sparks then. He could still hear them speaking.

"You do not mention these dark thoughts of yours to Prongs by any chance?"

"No," said Lupin, "but he does not need _me_ to make him worry."

"Nonsense. He is used to dangers-"

"But this time it's his wife's life and his child's life that's at stake! Why do you think he hardly ever goes more than three steps away from Lily when he is not on the other island? He is afraid for her!"

"They are both very brave," said Black confidently. "Of course, Prongs wants to be with her; he has always wanted. Besides," Black's voice suddenly became the sort of voice that predicted the coming of a hearty laughter, "he's got a more direct reason not to leave her alone."

"What reason?" asked Lupin.

"Well, there is a lad here who fancies his wife and who walks about with Polyjuice Potion in his pocket. Do you know how King Arthur was born?"

A loud peal of laughter drowned Lupin's much quieter answer. They were rather far away now, and Snape was lying still in the trap, letting them go...

He could not tell how much time had passed; only that it was dark now, and he could glimpse a portion of the moon among the trees. It had an unusual colour: It was orange. He did not know if it meant anything to astronomers or to weather watchers. To him, it signalled the beginning of a new eternity, which he was spending lying on his back and staring at the orange moon, robbed of everything except a few emotions that he would gladly give away if anyone was willing to take them.

As it happened, he was alone in this eternity, with no one to help or to want him, with no one he wanted close to him, unless he counted the birds and the butterflies, whose free flight above him was in sharp contrast with his stiff, lowly, ground-bound existence. But it was just as well... This eternity would perhaps be enough to make him forget that other one in which he had always ended up in the wrong place.

He had been laughed at. Again. He had never imagined that his feelings for Lily were so obvious to everyone that it could be the topic of such casual joke and laughter. Why did he have to want her still? Another man's wife... Not that he had ever been the popular sort with any girls, and Lily was easily the most attractive and popular one, but he could not help loving only her... Why did his miserable failure have to be so public, so apparent to all? Why could he not cease wanting what he could not have? Or why could he not do it at least in a decent, dignified, secret way?

The allusion to King Arthur's birth hurt him deeply. How did they dare...? How did they _dare_ to suggest, even as a joke? ... As a _joke_! He was going to kill Black... if ever again he got back to that other eternity where these things could happen, he would kill him for those words.

The trees were cracking somewhere nearby, but he did not move. He wanted no one; no one of _them_. The orange moon was reassuring him that the new eternity was not very bad after all. He just had to get used to the thought and it would be all right...

He was not left alone. From behind the trees jumped something big and swift and growling. Its head was large and its enormous mouth was panting into Snape's face, as the animal was sniffing his head, recognizing the prey that could not flee. Snape yelled as the wolf jumped on his body and turned its head towards the orange moon, howling its wild sense of triumph into the night...

He knew very well that there were no wolves or other big animals on the island. He knew what - who - he was dealing with, and he did not lose valuable moments. His raised his wand, and soon the wolf shot into the air, jerked back, and fell on the ground. But it jumped up again, and came back with the full might of a bloodthirsty attack.

It went on for a while, yet Snape could not find in himself the determination to kill, and he knew that a failed attempt would likely mean immediate defeat now. He sent spell after spell at the werewolf, with no time to wonder how long he would be able to keep fighting. The beast, however, understood the need for changing strategies, and now it attacked while staying as far away from the source of the spells as it could, and its bare teeth were already touching Snape's leg. He forgot about the trap and vigorously kicked the animal away when an excruciating pain caused the world around him to blacken for a moment.

The next thing he knew was the wolf standing on his chest and on his stomach, a wand - Snape's wand - between its teeth, frighteningly close to his throat now. His hands caught the beast's neck. He was not going to be bitten. Not that way... He might be killed, it was all too likely now, but he would not become...

The animal was heavy on his body, as it was struggling for air, and Snape knew he could not hold on for long. His hands fell back when the wolf freed its neck with another menacing growl, while Snape's wand was thrown into the darkness somewhere, and the wolf's fangs barely missed his arm. Had he screamed, or had it been someone else? Snape did not know. The uneven duel continued. Sharp teeth were tearing his robes apart, but the beast's attention was distracted by something flying past in front of its eyes, and Snape used this moment to grab and close its mouth with his hands, trying to hold it as tight as he could.

Suddenly another animal leapt out of the dark of the forest, snarling. How many wolves were there on the island after all? The two animals began to fight - each other - right above Snape, and he only wished they continued it a little further away. The newly arrived beast barked, and just as Snape realized that it was not another wolf but a big, bear-like dog, a third large animal arrived, some kind of deer, which did not run away at the sight of the dog and the wolf. Instead, it ran towards them, and Snape saw the wolf backing away, and the two other animals - the deer and the dog - were soon chasing it away, back to the ship...

Snape lay panting. His legs hurt, and so did his back and the bones in his chest and the muscles in his neck and his arms; and his face was covered with the wolf's saliva. What else was going to happen to him tonight, and what were his chances of surviving it? He looked for the orange moon, but he could not see it any more, so he was staring at its empty place on the dark sky among the trees, because he could not do anything else, with the expression of someone who had been hideously deceived. It was not _that_ easy after all... Despite the pain and the disappointment and any cool-headed consideration, life had not given up on him yet.


	7. The Stag and the Doe

Disclaimer: I don't own this. All the characters and many other things belong to J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 7**

_The Stag and the Doe_

His surroundings were not only dark, but increasingly foggy as well. It was a remarkable and abrupt change after the light of the bright orange moon. Snape could not see the trees any more, just the eerie, uncharacteristic fog, which seemed to have settled onto his brain, making it uncommonly difficult for him to think. He was getting rather cold, too, giving a shiver now and then, as the night wind coming from the sea cooled his body, previously heated by the fight with the wolf.

Oddly enough, old school memories were whirling in his mind, making him gradually oblivious to his environment: His first encounter with the werewolf, Potter's appearance in the tunnel under the Whomping Willow, Black's wild laughter, his own anger and shame... and later the Headmaster's piercing gaze in the circular office...

Then his thoughts jumped to Lily, and he remembered the happy hours which, as children, they had spent experimenting with potions. When they had become confident enough about their potion making skills, they had begun improving the potions they knew, at first for fun, later with a real, shared passion. He had been most interested in the effects of the potion and in the brewing process; therefore most of his improvements were focusing on those two aspects. Lily, however, had loved to improve the "good potions", as she had called them, taste-wise. To her, a potion was in dire need of perfection while it had an unpleasant taste, and he had always been happy to oblige.

Of course, most types of seasoning would have spoiled most potions, but precisely that was what made it an exciting game to find the ingredient that could add taste to a given potion without robbing it of its effects. They had discovered that sometimes a combination of flavours could be used where no single flavour was possible. He had been looking for strong spices or other flavours of "serious" character, including black coffee and even dark chocolate; but Lily had preferred sweet flavours like the flavours of fruits, honey, cinnamon or vanilla.

It was all very far away now. The chill in the air brought him back to reality, where he was alone, wounded, trapped, cold and marked by dark powers.

He started when he noticed something large materializing by his side out of the fog and the darkness. The deer had come back. It stood still and so close that Snape could feel the warmth of its breath, and he recognized the shape of a stag, a magnificent, strong animal. It bent its head over him as though proudly showing him its enormous, pointed antlers or maybe as though it was going to thrust those antlers into him. For a moment, the latter seemed quite probable, but Snape did not stir. The stag was an unearthly, dreamlike image; and he had the distinct impression that whatever was happening had already happened before - although it could have been only a recurring dream that he had almost forgotten...

There it was. The stag began to lose its contours in the fog, and Snape could just barely register what he was witnessing when it was not a stag any more, but a human being, bending over him. James Potter.

_Prongs_.

All of a sudden, the fog cleared up and disappeared as thoroughly as Snape wished Potter would disappear; but Potter was solid, and he stayed.

"What the-" Snape began, but Potter was a portion of a second quicker with _hi_s question.

"Are you all right?"

"Never been better," he answered, making sure to put a lot of extra meaning into the tone.

"You are not injured, are you?" Potter asked.

"I am," said Snape.

"Lumos," muttered Potter, raising his wand.

In the wandlight, Snape saw a cloud of anxiety pass through Potter's forehead.

"Where is the wound?"

He was holding his wand above Snape now. It was the first time Snape had been alone with Potter ever since they had come to the island; it was the first time that they had met without Lily, Moody or both being present; and the sight of Potter with a wand directed at him made Snape want to fight back. It was a well-conditioned reflex but he could not satisfy it now.

"My leg is broken," he said with some difficulty.

Relief spread on Potter's face.

"You were not bitten, then?"

Snape was sure that from Potter's viewpoint all was well now.

"Not bitten," he groaned, "but everything else-"

He hissed suddenly as Potter touched his fractured leg. Obviously, Potter either did not know how to handle a serious injury, or was doing it on purpose. Potter let go of his leg.

"Have you got your wand?"

"It was in the werewolf's mouth the last time I saw it," he muttered reluctantly.

With his wand, Potter illuminated the forest ground around them.

"I don't know how it happened," he said quietly, surveying the undergrowth below the trees. "Sirius will stay with him now, so it should be all right."

The mention of Black revived Snape's fury. He did not answer. Potter gave up looking for Snape's wand.

"Why aren't you in bed at this time of the night?" asked Potter suspiciously.

"This is the trap zone," Snape replied bitterly. "I ... stepped into one."

He thought it uncanny how lucky everyone else was. He alone was in that horrible position.

"You mean, you are-" Potter mouthed incredulously.

"Trapped."

Snape would have preferred another werewolf attack to this confession, but he could hardly avoid it now. Potter's jaw dropped open.

"You mean... hey, you mean you have fallen into your own trap?"

Potter could certainly appreciate the irony of the situation. He laughed out aloud, and to Snape, that was the very last straw. It was easy for Potter to taunt him now... But he would refuse to take it - _lying down_ -, he thought, and with the ambiguity of the phrase emphasizing his helplessness, he was angered even more.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," he hissed in his most menacing voice.

Potter gaped at him. He did stop laughing, but then there was a familiar glint in his eyes, which evoked memories of school fights in Snape's mind, and he almost expected to be hexed now, as he had been back then, but Potter merely turned his wand around in his hands.

"I dare worse things than that," he said coolly. "But I'm here to help you."

"I don't need your help," snapped Snape. "Leave me alone!"

Much to his shock and irritation, he saw a vague expression of _pity_ flicker across Potter's face. It was worse than a hex. He was _not _being pathetic.

"Too late, pal," said Potter nonchalantly as he took Snape's broken leg into his hands again. He was either doing it more carefully this time, or Snape was too angry to feel the pain properly.

"Remember, you saved my life a few months ago. An eye for an eye... you know."

He began baring Snape's leg and examining the fracture in the wandlight.

"You don't owe me anything," Snape protested, wriggling helplessly in the trap. "I did not do it for you! You can.... leave me alone."

He propped himself up on his elbows to see what Potter was doing. Potter was studying the injury.

"Very well, because I'm not doing it for you either," he said calmly.

"Then why do it at all?" growled Snape.

"You are my wife's best friend," Potter answered. "For _her_ sake, I won't let you die here."

Snape fell onto his back again. Clearly, it was another detestable joke, and he loathed the way Potter said "my wife". And then:

"When did she tell you that?"

He had not wanted to ask that. He had most definitely not wanted to say anything like that. He was betraying his emotions, which was weakness; and he hated to find himself weak.

"She told me when she almost worried herself to death about you," said Potter, now cleaning Snape's wound with his wand. "The devil looks after his own, but she did not seem to believe it. She was afraid that you would get killed."

Snape made a futile, kick-like movement with his unbroken leg.

"Easy there," said Potter. "You don't want another fracture. I'm not a healer," he added, "but I know the spell, and I think I can try to heal this."

Snape propped himself up on his elbows again. If he had the misfortune of having to accept help from this arrogant peacock, at least he wanted him to do it adequately.

"Mind how you do it," he seethed through his slightly chattering teeth. "The wand and the injury must be precisely in right angles. I say _precisely_!"

Potter nodded impatiently, adjusted the position of his wand, and did not listen to Snape any more. To his credit, the magic was successful. Snape could quite decidedly feel the fracture mending. He shuddered and sighed.

"Now," said Potter, "how are you going to open that trap thing?"

"I can't do it," muttered Snape. "It is impossible for someone who is ... inside. _You _must open it."

"I don't know how it is done," said Potter, shaking his head.

Snape raised his eyebrows.

"I explained it to all of you the night that I placed them here."

"I know," said Potter slowly. "But it was more like early morning, and we had been working all night. Not the best time to learn something new."

"I can tell you again ... just follow my instructions."

Potter agreed, and Snape began, with some effort, to explain.

"Since the trap is invisible, first you have to find its exact place and outline with your wand. When you are on the right track, the wand will become a little heavier. Once you know the exact shape of the trap, you have to trace it with your wand while saying the spell. It is very important that you finish the spell and the wand movement at the same time."

He had to pause as though speaking had exhausted him.

"It sounds complicated," said Potter grimly.

"Setting up the trap _is_ complicated," Snape answered irritably. "This is not. You just have to concentrate."

"What is the spell?"

"It is ... _Expedio_."

He waited a few moments before continuing.

"If you do it correctly, you will hear a clicking sound, and then you can say the password. It's "Secret Snare". I thought ... you would remember it easily... There will be another click, and the trap will open. After that, you will have to give the trap a new password ... the old one can no longer be used."

Hardly had he finished, when they heard someone come running and stop with a gasp.

"What's going on here?"

Lily turned up unexpectedly, Snape's wand in her hands. Her face reflected shock, as she was staring at the sight before her: Snape lying on the ground, Potter standing by his side, his wand directed at Snape, who very much wished Lily had arrived a few minutes later.

"Nothing to worry about," said Potter conversationally. "Snape is teaching me Dark Magic."

"WHAT?"

Snape closed his eyes. He could already see what a great story this would make the next time Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail got together for a chat. Lily might be there as well.

Potter explained to Lily what had happened and what he was going to do. Lily was horrified.

"How did Remus get free?" she demanded. "I thought he was going to be locked into a cabin!"

"I have no idea," replied Potter.

"Perhaps it was a prank," Snape growled, remembering that Black had mentioned the Whomping Willow just the day before.

Lily bent over him, waved her wand, and Snape's robes instantly became comfortably warm, almost hot, as though he was resting by a fire-place; and although he had not been moved an inch, it seemed he was lying on a soft bed now instead of the hard ground. The magic eased his discomfort, yet the cold deep inside was not going away...he kept shivering mildly.

"How can you say that?" Lily said reproachfully. "Who would think of such a dangerous prank?"

"Black, for example," said Snape. He wanted to add "_and Potter_", but he changed his mind. "It is exactly his idea of a prank."

"No!" Lily almost laughed. "I can't believe that even Sirius-"

Snape raised his head and cast a sharp look at Potter, who was busy moving his wand where he suspected the invisible outline of the trap. Snape saw with some satisfaction that he flushed.

"This time," he said uncomfortably, "I think I can vouch for Padfoot. But I don't know what happened. Moony will be mad when he transforms back."

"Mad?" snorted Snape. "_That _will be a difference indeed."

"He was planning to leave the island and come back when the night was over, but," Potter sighed, "Padfoot and I persuaded him to stay... He won't be in top form in the morning either."

Snape frowned. He was not convinced about Black's innocence at all. He shivered again, a little more violently than before.

"Are you sure you were not bitten?" Lily asked, and her hands were softly touching his neck, surveying his torn robes.

Snape gave no reply. He was quite certain that he would know it if he had been bitten, but he did not object to Lily wishing to check it herself. Even if they made him slightly embarrassed, how could he refuse those tender touches of her hand? Potter would just have to ... put up with it now.

"We'll have to take you to a warm place soon," said Lily. "James will open the trap in a minute."

But Snape stared at her with a sudden fright, because the warmth in his robes reminded him of something that he should have remembered a long time ago.

"The Dark Lord ..." he groaned, struggling for every single word, "the Dark Lord called his ... Death Eaters ... to himself tonight. It may be ... because of ... us. Pettigrew..."

"Did you get a message from Peter?" Lily asked quickly.

"No, not from him," Snape tried to explain. "It is about the ... Dark Lord and his servants. But it may have ... something to do ... with Pettigrew... If he was caught ... We must tell Moody."

"How do you know that?"

"I could feel-"

Snape broke off and straightened his left sleeve with an unconscious movement of his hand. He found himself unable to explain the burning of his Mark to Lily, who had just been as kind to him as she had never been before and who had perhaps called him her best friend in front of Potter. It was impossible to tell her how his body had become and remained a mere vessel for the Dark Lord's message network. If she knew such details about Death Eater life ... about _his_ life ... if she knew to what extent he had given himself into the Dark Lord's power once, she would be disgusted. Still, he had to stress the importance of the information.

"I _know_ it," he said firmly, although speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. "They had a meeting tonight."

Lily exchanged a bewildered glance with Potter, who had stopped surveying the trap with his wand.

"I never knew you were a Seer, Snape," he said.

"James, stop that," snapped Lily. "This is serious."

She bent closer to him and put her hand on his forehead.

"You've got a fever," she said to him, then turned to Potter again. "Hurry up with that spell, will you? Severus must be taken to the tent immediately."

"It's not that," Snape panted, though he suspected that Lily was right regarding the fever. "I'm not ... delirious... Moody..."

He tried to sit up, but, of course, he could not.

"I've never done this magic in my life," Potter put in. "If you don't stay still, Snape, I cannot promise anything."

Snape was continuously shivering with fever now, but he allowed Lily to soothe him like a child and to keep him still while Potter performed the magic according to his instructions. Potter succeeded again, and Snape was finally free.

"Can you stand up?" Lily asked.

"Of course," he said curtly.

He made a point of getting to his feet without help. It was not easy, and once he grabbed a tree for support, but he managed and was ready to go.

"Hang on a minute," said Potter suddenly. He reached into his pocket. "The mirror!"

He produced a small mirror, looked into it and whistled.

"It's Wormtail!"

Lily and Snape stepped closer and stared at the mirror from two sides. The face of Brutus Brockhoist was looking back at Potter from it, talking.

"Yes, it's me," he said in an undertone. "I just want to tell you that everything is going according to the plan. I could not report earlier because I had jobs to do here."

"Well done," Potter said, grinning. "Keep in touch."

Brockhoist-Pettigrew nodded. "I must go now," he mumbled and hastily vanished from the mirror.

Lily glanced at Snape. He was thinking.

"I will still inform Moody," he said pensively. "The Dark Lord is up to something. We must be careful."

His conviction that the Death Eater meeting had something to do with _them_ was growing stronger even in spite of Pettigrew's report.

"Constant vigilance!" Potter bellowed, imitating the auror's voice.

"Expecto Patronum!" shouted Lily. Snape's eyes followed the silver-white doe dashing lightly among the trees.

"The Patronus will wake Moody," she said. "It's time he got up anyway."

They went back to the tents together. Snape's newly healed leg still hurt and he could walk only rather slowly. Potter and Lily were holding hands, but stayed close to Snape as though they expected him to collapse any minute. They spoke very little, and Snape was secretly thankful that neither of the other two thought of asking him how he had got trapped.

"I must talk to Moody," Snape repeated when they reached the Snape-Moody tent.

"We will tell him what you said about You-Know-Who," said Lily. "You must go to bed as soon as possible."

After a moment's hesitation, Snape growled something in agreement, and quietly climbed inside.

"Where have you been?" said a gruff voice. The auror was already up, getting ready for his turn of guard duty.

"Walking," muttered Snape, and limped towards the bathroom. He heard subdued voices hurriedly murmuring something to Moody behind his back. It was a relief to have the burden of explanation lifted from his shoulders.

By the time he washed the dirt of the fight with a werewolf off himself and returned to the bedroom area of the tent, Moody had left. Snape was glad to be alone. He knew that he needed a potion for medicinal purposes, but he felt too ill to make the effort to even go to his potion stock. Instead, he climbed into his bed, and lay there awake for a while, struggling with the fever and thinking about the events of the night: His embarrassing accident with the trap, the burning Dark Mark and Pettigrew's appearance in the mirror, the conversation between Black and Lupin, the werewolf attack, the fact that Potter and Black were Animagi and had rescued him from the werewolf and the trap, Lily being so incredibly kind to him...

He did not notice when Lily entered the tent. He only saw her when she was already by his side, and then he almost jumped.

"Severus," Lily whispered. "I did not expect to find you still awake, but I've brought something for you."

She handed him a goblet with some hot liquid in it.

"Drink it," she said. "It will make you feel better."

He smelt the potion that had been put into his hands, and he was already feeling better, or at least more cheerful. There was something unmistakably Lily-like in the scent of the drink.

"Since you are too ill to brew your own medicine, it is evident that someone else has to do it," she said, perhaps misunderstanding his silence. "This is what I give Harry, too, when he has a temperature. He really likes it."

With these words, she hurried out of the tent. Snape gazed at the goblet, astonished. It would have been better if Lily had not mentioned that she was giving the same medicine to her child - he was not quite sure that the parallel might not hurt his dignity in some way. Yet, what really mattered was the gently steaming potion, a tangible sign of Lily's friendship. The first sip almost made him smile, for the potion tasted of honey, apples and cinnamon. Out of a thousand different flavours, he still would have recognized her style of brewing.


	8. Fire

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 8**

_Fire_

Snape was fighting against werewolves. He had seen Lupin, Black, Pettigrew and Potter transform into wolves one by one, and now it was his duty to save Lily from them. Lily let out a terrified scream, and Snape doubled his efforts to overcome the beasts. He would do anything to save her, absolutely anything... Suddenly the werewolves vanished and there was no one else in sight but Lily and Snape. Lily's face was covered with her hands. He hurried to her, wanting to comfort her, to tell her that the danger was over and everything would be fine. Lily slowly raised her head and glared at him, and Snape realized that she was still screaming frantically and her voice was unbearably loud and shrill...

"Why?" he muttered, and looked round for help or advice, but all he could see was the usual interior of the tent illuminated by the morning light filtering through the canvas. He could still hear the shrill sound, however, and the next instant he was fully awake because he recognized the alarm commanding everyone to get up at once.

Lily's potion had done him good. Though he was not able to give it much thought, his fever was gone, and while his usual strength had not quite returned, he was able to master enough energy to jump out of bed and get ready to face whatever was happening.

Outside the tents, confused and sleepy Order members were gathering in a hurry. Snape sent a glowering stare towards Black, but Black paid no attention to him. Lily and Potter arrived together, closely followed by Lupin, who seemed no less bruised than Snape.

"Fire," said Black, sniffing the air in a surprisingly dog-like fashion. "A forest fire!"

Snape could also sense now a rather peculiar smell of smoke somewhere not very far away.

"Where is Moody?" Lupin asked.

It was, of course, Moody who had alerted them, and he soon turned up in person as well, walking as fast as he could with his wooden leg and walking stick.

"Death Eaters on the island," he panted, showing them his foe-glass, in which dark shapes of hooded figures were lurking behind the smoke. "We are surrounded by fire. We must break out without delay on broomsticks."

This time at least they did not have to wonder how their defences had been broken. Potter tried to contact Pettigrew via the two-way mirror but to no avail. Snape caught Moody's eyes with an "I-told-you-so" expression on his face, but the fact that he had been right about Pettigrew's ineptitude could be of little comfort.

The auror took charge and swiftly arranged the evacuation. It was evident that they would not be able to leave the island without being attacked; therefore they had to remain as organized as possible. Moody gave precise orders to everyone, designated the direction of their escape and the close formation in which they would fly. Their efforts, however, were in vain. It turned out that their broomsticks were all gone, along with Brutus Brockhoist, who had mysteriously disappeared from the ship cabin. Any attempt to Disapparate across the fire proved to be useless. The fire itself was resistant to all methods of extinguishing, and the flames kept reaching higher and higher in the forest and were already towering far above the trees around them.

Snape was not surprised. This was no more than what he would have expected from the Dark Lord. The perfectionist that he was, if _he_ set a place on fire, he would obviously see to it that his victims could not escape, and with the help of everything that Pettigrew knew and the things he had taken along - the auxiliary wand and the invisibility cloak - as well as the general confusion of the previous night, a Death Eater could relatively easily have got inside the camp to free Brockhoist and take their broomsticks.

Now he found it possible that Lupin's escape from the ship was not a prank or an accident - although he could not imagine what Death Eater would be willing to release a werewolf just to cover up his activities. After all, the wolf would almost surely attack the first human within sight regardless of who it was.

But even if they had had some hopes of escaping, it would have been lost when a harsh, almost deafening noise as though the whole forest had collapsed upon them made them all froze. The flames appeared to suddenly fall ahead with a crash, and when the accompanying smoke dispersed, they saw that the fire had formed a continuous domed roof ablaze overhead, making it impossible for anyone to get out even on broomsticks.

The forest was in turmoil. Birds, squirrels and all sorts of flying insects were rushing about, united in panic, looking for an escape route in vain. They did not mind the presence of the humans - some of them were fluttering around quite near them for a while.

Snape had one last idea yet: A fire protection potion! The flames were not coming closer at least, and while they were static, it was unlikely that the Death Eaters could get through them to start a full attack. It seemed that for the time being, the Dark Lord wanted to keep them captured rather than have them burned on the spot, and all they needed was time to brew the potion...

He ran back to the tent, where his potions and potion ingredients were stored, and there he found proof that the Dark Lord or whoever had been acting on his orders had indeed thought of everything.

His potion supply had been ravaged by someone, and its contents stolen, spilt, broken or contaminated beyond help. Despair overpowered him at the sight, as his fingers ran through this scene of devastation, the ruins of so much careful work, and it became clear that he would not be able to make the potion now. The thought that he might have been able to discover the damage earlier, right after coming back to the tent at night perhaps, if he had only taken the trouble to prepare his own potion drove him almost mad with anger and self-reproach.

"What are you doing?" said a tired voice.

Snape turned to see Moody entering the tent.

"I could have saved all of us," he said with profound bitterness. "There is a potion that can take people through fire unharmed, but... someone apparently has been here as well."

He was quite sure that the potion would have worked. The enemy would not have destroyed the ingredients if they had not been aware that a potion could save them.

"I have sent a message to the Ministry," said Moody, as the others were silently filing into the tent. "I asked them to send us reinforcements. We will fight."

"It's hard to fight against fire," said Snape, but Moody shook his head.

"I don't think You-Know-Who wants to burn us all alive if he can help it. It is more likely that he wants to capture us, which means he will have to remove the fire sooner or later. Your potion could not save us. Even if you had the ingredients, it would take too long to brew it."

"Not for me," Snape replied. "The fire protection potion can be prepared quickly, and I know how to speed up even the standard process. I have some more ingredients at Hogwarts... but not here any more."

"Dumbledore!" gasped Lily. "He can send us the ingredients perhaps - then you can make the potion if we still have time!"

Snape had no idea how the potion ingredients could be sent across the walls of fire surrounding them, but Lily insisted that it was worth a try, and she dispatched her Patronus to Hogwarts with the precise request.

Moody was working out their strategies fast, and was just beginning to organize them for a battle when a voice sounded, a sharp, high and cold voice, amplified and reverberating from every direction.

"You are trapped," said the voice. "No one will pass through this fire without my permission. I know about your plans. They have, naturally, failed. But you still have a choice."

The Dark Lord paused for a long moment and Snape was watching the others. Everyone had become silent and pale.

"I have immobilized the fire so that you can have this choice. A word from me; and the fire itself will attack you. I do not even have to lift a finger, and you are all dead. You can try how long you are able to resist the inextinguishable fire Lord Voldemort is sending against you. But there is another way."

The voice paused again, and then it became so loud that it literally shook the tent.

"SURRENDER!"

"He's a master with special effects, that You-Know-Who," growled Moody.

"If you surrender, you can avoid certain death in the fire. You will be my prisoners, and the extent of your cooperation will decide your fate in the future. You need not die. It depends on you - and on the Dark Lord's favour. You have thirty minutes to decide."

"The aurors had better hurry up," Black grunted as Moody began giving out new instructions, still based on the presumption that the Death Eaters would try to capture them before burning down the whole camp.

"I'll send them a new message," said Moody, catching Black's words. "They must arrive in exactly half an hour."

"Why not as soon as possible?" asked Black.

Moody cast a grim look at him.

"If the Death Eaters are attacked by the aurors, they will not hesitate to kill us straightaway or to use us as hostages to force the aurors to retreat. They must remove the fire first and try to capture us so that we will already be fighting when the reinforcements arrive."

The Dark Lord was not wasting his time. The flames slowly began to move closer to them on all sides as well as above, and they could hear the sharp, cold voice again.

"Time is going fast. You can surrender by sending up white sparks. I will open a gate for you then and you will all walk out. I am warning you: Do not expect help from outside. No one is able to approach - or leave - the island without one of your auxiliary wands."

Snape realized that this meant they would still be able to Disapparate if they could get to the other side of the fire. Potter, Lupin and Black were discussing the aurors' chances of breaking the protection around the island. The aurors had the power of the Ministry behind them, after all.

Snape kept close to Lily. Whatever was going to happen, Lily would come to no harm while he was alive and able to fight. It might be a very short time, of course, but he was determined to watch out for any opportunity to save her. Anyone or anything with the potential to hurt Lily would have to kill him first. Or, if he had to return into the Dark Lord's prison to be tortured and executed as a traitor, in exchange for Lily's life, he would do it as well.

The fire was coming yet closer, continually heating and reducing the circle into which they were all locked. Although they could neither stop nor put out the flames, they managed, with a lot of hard wandwork, to keep the temperature of the air tolerable if not exactly cool. Then there was a moment when it seemed that the Dark Lord had become tired of waiting for them to surrender. Snape thought the roof of fire above was falling down - but then he saw that it was not the whole roof, only a single flame descending rapidly towards them.

Snape jumped in front of Lily, while Potter, Lupin and Black ran towards the flame with their wands directed at it. Still, it was Lily who first recognized what they were all staring at - perhaps because she was the one who was most hoping for something good to happen.

"Look, Severus!" she shrieked in a sort of out-of-place euphoria.

Potter and his friends stopped dead in their tracks, and Snape stared at the phenomenon with utter astonishment. Across the flames came something that looked like fire itself, and yet it was not fire but a bird with bright red and gold plumes.

"Fawkes!"

Dumbledore's bird flapped its wings and something golden and red fell from under its feathers and landed at Lily's feet. It was a box with the picture of a lion on its lid. Fawkes began flying in circles around them, as Lily picked up the box and opened it. Snape had hardly got over the surprise at the appearance of the phoenix when he was struck by a sight equally miraculous: The phoenix had brought them all the ingredients that he needed to make the fire protection potion. He carefully sank his hand into the red-and-gold box and took out a handful of the various plant parts to examine them. They were real.

"Hurry up!" Lily shouted excitedly. "We'll help you, just tell us what to do."

Snape jerked his head up.

"Cauldron. Knife. Fire," he murmured, but someone was already putting a large cauldron over freshly lit fire. The air was very hot everywhere and standing by the simmering cauldron was not at all pleasant, but it did not matter now.

Snape had never been so quick in his life when making a potion. His hands appeared to be doing their jobs on their own, unconsciously, confidently and more rapidly than he could think; but it was just as well, since his brain was close to falling into a trance. The world was dancing in hot, vertiginous red around him. The magical flames were making their surroundings seem draped completely in a silky, red material. Their effect was reinforced by the fire under the cauldron, right in front of Snape's eyes; enhanced by the scarlet feathers of the phoenix; and topped off by Lily's flaming red hair. Even her high-coloured cheeks were glowing red with heat and excitement - but it all suited her splendidly.

Lily stayed by his side and helped him with everything, and Snape was wondering whether it was really possible that they were once again brewing a potion together. There was rare, perfect harmony between them, and they understood each other from a word, from a gesture or from a glance.

The others' help was limited to bringing the cauldron, six goblets and various tools to the two potion brewers. Then they stepped back and watched for a while, with sweating faces and spinning heads, the breathtaking performance in which they had no chance of participating.

Soon, however, they all hurried away to prepare for the departure. They packed their personal belongings within minutes (Moody took care of Snape's bag), then Potter transfigured each bag into a small object and distributed them among the owners: an old-fashioned wrist watch for Lupin, a small photo album full of girls' pictures for Black, a pipe for Moody, a key ring with keys for Snape, a toy snitch for himself and an embroidered handkerchief with a flowery pattern for Lily. Moody gave everyone an auxiliary wand.

In the meantime, the potion was almost completely finished. Snape extinguished the fire under the cauldron and raised his wand. In that instant, the Dark Lord's voice twanged above them again.

"My patience is wearing thin. You must surrender immediately - or bear the consequences!"

Snape looked up from his work.

"We need time," he hissed.

Moody nodded and sent white sparks into the air. The sparks vanished in the roof of fire. Everyone was lining up beside the cauldron now, and Snape cooled the potion with a flick of his wand.

"Drink," he said.

Lily demonstrated the effect of the potion by stepping into the fire and coming out again, laughing.

"Cool," said Potter after drinking the potion and he took Lily's hand.

"Very well," the Dark Lord's voice continued. "I am going to open a gate for you near the exit between two traps. You must come out, one at a time, and promptly hand over your wands. Any tricks, and those who are still inside will be reduced to ashes within a second."

"The exit between two traps," murmured Snape.

"Very well informed," Moody said under his breath, staring into the foe-glass. Then he raised his voice.

"All the Death Eaters are waiting for us by the gateway; therefore we must go in the opposite direction. As soon as you get across the fire, you can Disapparate using the auxiliary wand. You must Disapparate before you reach the traps. We will meet on the west coast of the island."

Snape watched as Lupin and Black drank the potion and dashed towards the fire. Only he and Moody were standing by the cauldron now.

"Your turn," said the auror.

Snape glanced at Moody's wooden leg. He could definitely see some potential for trouble there.

"I can run faster than you," he said. "Besides," he added with the unmistakable pride of a professional in his tone, "it is always the potion brewer who must take the potion last."

For a moment, Moody seemed to be going to give a very indignant answer to Snape's unexpected disobedience, but a long, hard look at Snape made him change his mind. Nor was there much time to argue, so Moody drank his portion of the potion, told Snape to hurry up and walked into the fire.

Fawkes was still there, perched on a tree branch, occasionally giving out a soft, musical trill.

Snape drank, too, and could instantly feel the ice-cold sensation all over inside, which was exactly what the potion had to do. He heard the Dark Lord's voice ordering the first prisoner to start at once, but there was one more thing that he wanted to do. He picked up an empty bottle, which had contained one of the ingredients sent by Dumbledore, and bent over the cauldron. It still contained a considerable amount of the potion, and he was unwilling to leave it behind. It was all that had remained of his potion stock; and it might still come in handy.

With the last of the potion in his pocket, he began running towards the fire when all of a sudden he heard a woman scream. The sound came from behind the trees in the camp, but it was too close to come from the Death Eaters.

He whirled round. What had happened? There was only one woman among them, and now the scream sounded anew, even louder than before. The flames were coming closer again around and above him, indicating the Dark Lord's growing impatience with the delay. The heat would have been hardly bearable if the potion had not kept him cool... Snape sprinted among the trees breathless, thinking of nothing but Lily in danger somewhere. He had to slow down so abruptly that he lost his balance and fell on bended knee when he finally caught sight of the one who needed his help.


	9. Return to the Dark Lord's Island

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs entirely to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 9**

_Return to the __Dark Lord's Island_

Raging fire was closing in on the camp now. The Dark Lord had apparently decided to push the captured group towards the narrow opening where he and his Death Eaters were waiting for them. The flames did not form more or less regular walls any more - they were spreading wildly, lighting gigantic torches of pine trees where they swept.

With a semi-circle of burning trees behind her back, the screaming woman was staring, paralysed by terror, at five or six snakes sidewinding around her, some of them quite close to her feet, blocking her way away from the burning trees. Snape noticed the creatures just in time to avoid running straight into them, but he could not help gaping at the sight in front of him.

On the one hand, the appearance of the stranger in the area of the camp was inexplicable unless he supposed that she had come with the Death Eaters. On the other hand, she did not resemble a witch belonging to the Dark Lord's entourage. Not only was she shabby and skinny to the point of being obviously underfed, with unkempt hair, which was so long that she could almost have used it instead of clothing, but she was also conspicuously helpless facing a magical species that anyone acquainted with the Dark Arts should be able to handle. What he found most remarkable was that she was not even trying to use any sort of magic to get rid of the snakes, and the only explanation Snape could think of was that something prevented her from doing it.

"Help me," she begged faintly as she glimpsed Snape. "Please..."

Snape directed his wand toward the snake nearest to her, and the beast stopped frozen, petrified. Snape immobilized each of the snakes in turn, but the woman remained rooted on the spot as though she had been petrified, too.

Snape leapt across the snakes, grabbed her arm, and forcefully pulled her away from the burning trees. Had he acted a moment later, her hair would surely have caught fire. She screamed again, terrified, and clutched his hand as they ran past the animals.

"How come you are more afraid of these harmless things than of the fire all around?" he asked fiercely.

"Snakes," she said, shuddering and struggling for air in the heat. She was about Snape's age, ashen-faced, hazel-eyed, looking as though she had been living rough for quite a while.

"Only a few ashwinders," he snapped, withdrawing his hand from hers. "They are coming out of the fire. Their _eggs_ are dangerous, but I'm not planning to stay and wait until they lay them."

Not that he would not have _liked_ to. Ashwinder eggs were valuable potion ingredients and rather expensive when bought in the apothecary's shop, but he was obliged to forgo the rare opportunity this time.

"I can't stand snakes," she whispered nervously, instinctively taking a step towards him. "Can we get out of here?"

Snape was already holding the bottle of fire protection potion ready in his hand. He was going to give it to her, but her hands were trembling so much, that he changed his mind. The last thing he needed was to have the potion spilt. Instead, he simply poured half of the potion down her throat - not heeding her consequent coughing fit at all - then he drank the rest. He was getting increasingly hot, a clear sign that the previous dose of the potion had lost its effect.

They did not need to run toward the fire. It had come to them. Snape grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her along into the flames.

They emerged on the other side, unharmed, the stranger yet another shade paler. Snape heard the soft cry of a bird above them, and he just caught a glimpse of Fawkes disappearing into the distance like a scarlet flame...

He remembered that he was to meet the others on the west coast of the island, and although he doubted that they would still be waiting for him there (the wisest thing was to Disapparate from the island immediately), he decided to give it a try. He could always Apparate on from the west coast, after all. In another moment, they both were on the far edge of the forest, which extended to the coastline in the west.

The others were there yet. No sooner had Snape landed with the stranger virtually in his arms, than he realized that five wands were pointing at him in a closed circle. He let go of the girl and glared back at the group. What did they think he had done again?

"Stay where you are," growled Moody as Snape was already raising his wand.

The auror glanced around. Lily spoke.

"Severus," she said, "what present did you get from me on your eleventh birthday?"

Snape was puzzled.

"Have you all gone mad?" he snarled. "The Death Eaters may arrive any minute!"

"Answer the question," Moody said in a voice of warning. "At once."

"A ... book," said Snape slowly.

"Even I could guess that much," Lupin remarked.

Snape darted a dark look at him, but he was beginning to understand the mystery at last. He had been away for such a long time that the others had thought he had been killed or captured, and now they were trying to check if he was really Severus Snape and not a Death Eater in disguise. Still, he did not like the situation at all.

"What was the title?" Lily asked.

Snape wondered if exposing their shared memories of childhood was the only way to prove his identity, but the expression on Lily's face demanded an answer.

"_The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_," he said, watching Lily intently. The book used to be one of her favourites, and she had wanted him to read it as well.

Lily lowered her wand and everyone else did the same.

"What would you have done suppose I had forgotten?" Snape demanded.

"We had to check," said Potter. "Where have you been?"

"And who is this?" asked the auror.

The new-comer, who had been so far waiting patiently, her eyes downcast, raised her head now, and swept her long hair out of her face.

Lily's hand flew to her mouth.

"Mary!"

Suddenly four young men were staring at the girl with such undisguised amazement that she blushed, and averted her gaze from all of them. She was indeed Mary Macdonald, one of Lily's Gryffindor friends back at Hogwarts. It was no wonder though that Snape had not recognized her earlier. He remembered her as a neat and slightly plump girl, one of those who giggled rather too much in his opinion; but _this_ Mary Macdonald, with her thin figure, unkempt hair and a generally haunted look about her, appeared to be a different person.

"Do you know her then?" Moody asked.

"Of course!" Lily answered immediately. "We were roommates for seven years. But Mary, what happened to you? I heard some very bad news..."

"And how did you get into our camp?" Snape interrupted. "How did you break our wards? We know how the Death Eaters had come to the island; but what about you?"

Mary regarded them in a slightly pleading manner.

"I am not a Death Eater," she said, her voice wavering a bit. "I'm on your side. I'm ... on the run from ... _him_. Believe me, I'm not going to harm you, I don't even have a wand!"

Moody cast an inquiring glance at Snape, who gave a hardly perceptible nod. Mary did not seem like a Death Eater, and given her desperate plight with the Ashwinders, it was believable that she did not have a wand.

"Well," said Moody, "we don't have time for story-telling. The Death Eaters may soon realize that we are not perishing in their fire, and we have a job to do."

"What job?" Snape asked.

"Why did we come in the first place?" Potter returned the question. "Moody's foe-glass has shown that Voldemort," - Mary flinched and Snape looked round nervously - "has brought not only Death Eaters but quite a few prison guards as well."

"He must be really sure of himself," Black continued. "Anyway, it means that the prison island is less heavily guarded now than at other times. An excellent opportunity to besiege it."

"Since you came too late to take part in our discussion," said the auror to Snape, "you will simply have to accept our decision."

"Which is?" he asked.

"The three of you," Moody explained, "you, Potter and Lily, will go to the prison island, and attempt to break into the prison, since you are the ones who know the building best. Sirius, Remus and I will stay here and keep the Death Eaters occupied. We will pretend to be twice as many as we really are."

"The three of us?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows. "Do we know how we are going to force the prison open? We don't have Brockhoist's wand."

"We'll have to figure it out quickly," said Potter lightly. "And yes, only the three of us. Three at least are needed to fight the Death Eaters and there are only six of us altogether."

Snape thought it made little difference whether it was two or three people fighting against the Dark Lord personally, but he did not argue. Mary spoke instead.

"There are _seven_ of us," she said. "I want to fight... I have a score to settle with them ... and I'm sure I know the prison building better than any of you."

"All right," said Moody. "You will go with them."

His gaze lingered on Snape for a while, and Snape understood that he was to keep an eye on her. So he had to watch someone now instead of being the one to be watched. But he did not have much time to ponder the irony of this extraordinary progress - they had to Disapparate before the arrival of the Death Eaters.

"We"ll meet on the other island, on the edge of the forest which is nearest the prison building," said Potter. "Don't forget to remove the wards with your auxiliary wand before entering the island."

He winked at Black and Lupin.

"Have fun and follow us as soon as you have hammered the Death Eaters."

In another minute, the four of them Disapparated, Snape taking along Mary Macdonald, who did not have a wand. They landed on the coast of the Dark Lord's island, their feet in shallow water. The familiarity of the landscape unleashed a surge of memories in Snape's mind so that it was Mary who had to warn him in the end that they had not reached their destination yet.

The auxiliary wand worked perfectly. The wards were lifted, and shortly they were in the forest where Snape had once found temporary refuge on a day that changed his life for ever. Lily and Potter arrived safe and sound as well.

"So how are we going to open the prison?" Snape asked. "Any ideas?"

It was frustrating to know that they were back on square one again. They had known how they could get to the prison island on the very first day; it was breaking into the prison itself that had caused the difficulty. Their position was even worse now, as the Dark Lord had been informed of their plans and they had to do without half of the team. _This_, they could have attempted all along.

Potter hesitated.

"I'll go to the prison under the Invisibility Cloak," he said finally. "When a guard comes out, I'll capture him and get his wand."

"Great," said Snape. "How long do you think it will take?"

"I've got a better idea," said Mary unexpectedly. "I will go with you. I don't have to be invisible. I can simply knock on the door and demand that they open it, and when they do, you must make sure that they will not close it again."

They gaped at her in wonder.

"Don't you think they will find it strange that someone actually volunteers to be caught?" Snape asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "No one is allowed to enter the island without the Dark Lord's express command. In theory, no one _can_ - unless they have the Dark Lord's precise instructions."

"You're right," said Mary with a sad smile. "But they will not suspect _me_. You see ... they ... know me. They will think they know why I have come."

Again, Snape was the first to react to this startling statement.

"What exactly will they think?" he asked suspiciously.

Mary bent her head.

"They'll think that I have come because of my granddad," she said very quietly. "To be with him... It would not be the first time. They captured my granddad more than a year ago. He was very ill and he needed me."

"And you have been permitted to visit him?" Lily whispered incredulously.

"It is not quite like that," Mary replied. "I was imprisoned, too."

"But they may just want to kill you then," said Snape. "I suppose that would be the ... standard treatment as regards escaped prisoners." He threw a quick glance at Lily.

Mary was slowly shaking her head.

"I was away with You-Know-Who's permission. He felt certain that I would come back to my granddad. I had done it before."

"So your grandfather is still a prisoner here?" said Lily, her voice trembling.

Mary sighed.

"Not any more... but they don't know that I know it."

"Did he escape, too?" Potter asked in surprise.

Mary looked at him for a long moment. Her lips quivered a bit.

"In a way," she said, "he did."

She wiped her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Lily breathed, hugging her.

There was a few minutes' silence; then Snape spoke.

"I still don't understand," he said sternly. "The Dark Lord does not dispense favours without wanting something in return. Even if he expected you to come back, why did he let you walk free in the first place?"

Mary shrugged off Lily's comforting hug and turned to face him.

"Do you want to break into that prison or not?" she said angrily. "Because _I_ do! My grandfather was tortured there for more than a year. I can't make you trust me, but I could help you and those people who are still alive in there. Aren't your friends fighting a deadly battle against You-Know-Who right now just so you can free the prisoners? Are you going to waste their lives without trying anything?"

"That's enough," said Potter urgently. "I trust you. Let's go."

Snape scrutinized Mary for a couple of seconds. She was obviously hiding something, and given her unexpected appearance in the camp, he thought it would be safer to find out what. But he knew that the Dark Lord was capable of forcing people to do many things against their own will, so a prisoner might easily become a mere tool in his hands; and the girl could have lots of reasons to want to keep her secret to herself.

"Let's see the precise plan," he said finally.

Five minutes later, Lily and Snape were alone on the edge of the forest watching out for the sign that would tell them to start. Potter and Mary had walked to the prison, Potter hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, Mary seemingly alone.

"Come," said Lily when they glimpsed a flash of light in the distance.

Soon they arrived at the open door of the Dark Lord's prison, where Mary Macdonald was standing (seemingly alone) with a newly acquired wand in her hand, fighting the prison guards who were coming to find out the reason of the commotion. By the time they realized that they were dealing with more than a single rebel running amok (whom their curses somehow never reached although she was fiercely attacking without bothering to defend herself), they had been either stunned or petrified.

Upon arrival, Snape immediately conjured a long, thick rope, which tightly bound the four prison guards lying in the doorway; then he sent a swift Shield Charm between Lily and a Cruciatus Curse, while simultaneously jumping out of the way of another vicious curse, which hit an already Petrified prison guard. Snape wheeled around, shouting, and the attacker hissed, his injured hand dropping his wand.

Lily Stunned the guard who had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse, and turned sideways just in time to magically silence another one, who was only able to yell "Ava-" before losing his voice and falling across the threshold, where he was promptly bound by a long, thick rope.

Mary was duelling fearlessly until the guard she was fighting conjured a pair of snakes swishing straight into her face. The wand fell out of her hand, and she backed away, giving a penetrating scream, which instantly called everyone's attention to her. Snape quickly Disarmed the prison guard nearest to him, and shot a Banishing Charm towards the snakes, one of which flew out into the open. At the same time, the other snake was hit by a different spell, coming from apparently no one, and it coiled itself into a knot at once, rolled into a distant corner, and there it stayed. Shrieking with fury, Mary dived for the wand, and the next moment the guard fell on the ground, groaning painfully, his hand on his stomach.

The prison guards, who had by this time realized what was going on, were returning the attack in a more organized way now. Potter was still firing spells at them from under his Invisibility Cloak, continually changing places and directions to keep up the element of surprise. At one point, his hood fell off his head, exposing him to the prison guards' curses, but the solitary head frightened them perhaps even more than a perfectly invisible enemy.

The battle continued inside the building now, and suddenly the huge stone door slammed shut behind them, its force sweeping aside the tied up guards. They were too busy to wonder whether they had got trapped. After all, each of them had already seized at least one wand from the guards - they had previously agreed that getting those wands would be one of their priorities during the battle.

Once the guards had got over the surprise, they began using the various built-in defences of the magical stronghold. A set of sharp, long knives were flying towards the fighters, but the weapons turned into bird feathers just as they reached them, although the speediest of them flew past Potter's left ear, dangerously close, and another one hit Snape on the shoulder, causing a light scratch before being transfigured.

The knives were followed by a swarm of angry wasps, which, however, ended up attacking the guards and only the guards, distracting them and making them easy prey to their enemies. Then a set of lassos were coming, sure to strangle anyone they caught; but each of them remained floating high up in the air, where it began whirling around rapidly, until it finally fell down in the shape of a colourful ball of yarn.

Finally it seemed that Potter, having, by now, cast off his Invisibility Cloak, was fighting the last guard, who was visibly disheartened by their obvious defeat. Lily was panting exhaustedly, grabbing the opportunity to rest a few minutes. Mary stared in the direction of the cells, a peculiar look on her face. Snape went to the captured guards, several of whom were in a very bad shape, having been accidentally hit by stray spells.

He bent over one of them, and pulled him into a half-sitting position.

"Rennervate!" he muttered, pointing his wand at the stunned man.

He blinked and gaped back at Snape with a blank expression.

"What is the password to the door?" Snape asked.

He was certain that even though they had the prison guards' wands, they would not get out without knowing the password as well, and it might have changed since they had talked to Brockhoist. The guard was shaking his head in terror.

"The password!" growled Snape dangerously.

He knew exactly what argument was taking place in the captive's dizzy mind. The man was evidently afraid of the immediate mortal danger represented by Snape's wand, but to overcome his fear of the Dark Lord, who had forbidden them to reveal the password to any outsiders, was still too difficult for him. Yet, at least he was _thinking_ of the password now, and that was all Snape needed.

"_Legilimens_," he thought, his eyes boring deep into a pair of scared, beady eyes.

A moment later he turned away from the captive, and directed a wand at the prison door, which opened with a piercing creak.

"Let's open all the doors!" Mary shouted, and in the very second that Potter forced the last prison guard to surrender; she dashed towards the dark corridors where the prison cells were found.

By the time Lily, Potter and Snape realized what was happening, it was too late for them to do anything. Another door, a gigantic, wide and strong door descended from above and completely closed down the dark corridors with a loud bang.

"Mary!" Lily cried out, running to the new door. "Alohomora!"

Nothing happened. Snape and Potter rushed there, too. Each of them attempted to open the door, using various wands, trying both passwords that they knew. Desperately, Lily tried the door handle as well, although, as it could be expected, in vain.

"The guards!" Potter bellowed.

They were in the wing of the prison building that contained the guards' offices and dwelling places, and even that section proved to be surprisingly big, complete with several floors and many corridors. The cells, however, were inaccessible unless they found a way to get through the mysterious door. They transported the captive guards (there were twenty of them) into the largest office and interrogated them; Snape performed thorough Legilimency on the Chief - but neither questions, nor Legilimency brought them any success at all. The guards also seemed to be genuinely puzzled by the appearance of this new protection - it was obviously magic that they had not anticipated.

Finally, all three of them went back to the door, behind which Mary and all the Dark Lord's prisoners were locked up. Potter continued firing spells, but the magic did not yield to any of them.

Snape was studying the door, trying to discover what kind of magic was operating it and wishing that Potter would stop producing the disturbing noise and smoke, when all of a sudden, it was there. He could see it, faintly at first, and then more and more clearly, as the curlicued inscription became gradually distinct on the solid surface.

What he saw was a large black stamp in the shape of a Dark Mark, and the inscription running around it consisted of three words only:

_THE ULTIMATE PROTECTION_


	10. The Patronus and the Dark Mark

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 10**

_The Patronus and the Dark Mark_

Snape took a small step backwards. So _this_ was how the Dark Lord intended to protect his prison-fortress. Was he surprised? Of course, there was more to the defence system than the simple spells, passwords and a few, magically not very talented guards, aided by enchanted wasps and flying knives.

"Alohomora!" shouted Potter for about the twentieth time. "Reducto!"

Lily was eyeing him pensively, Snape, however, who began pacing anxiously up and down in the corridor, found Potter's activity expressly irritating. With a sudden idea, he left them and hurried to the office where the prison guards were awaiting their fate. Soon he was standing over the Chief, his wand pointing directly at the man's face.

But only minutes later, he was already going back to Lily and Potter, knowing that there was no way out. The guards were of no use. He had more or less known that in advance. The Ultimate Protection had started the moment that the last guard had given up defending the fortress. The Dark Lord did not build any plans on their services beyond that point.

Where did that leave them - and him personally? He shuddered. Was he prepared for what was to come, for what he was - perhaps - _expected_ to do? But had he not wished, in this very same building once, to have a chance to rectify his mistake? Had he not promised to do _anything_ to fight the Dark Lord?

"James, this won't solve anything," Lily was just saying. "We must try something more effective."

"I'm trying what I can," said Potter irritably. "But here is our Dark Arts specialist..." He looked at Snape as though it was Snape's fault that the door was there.

"Don't waste your energy," Snape said coldly. "You can't break the magic."

"All magic can be broken," said Potter with an air of superiority that would have made Snape grind his teeth in any other situations. "I'm not going to give up."

"Do you think," Snape asked silkily, "that _you_ will be the one who can break it this time?"

He shrugged.

"By all means, keep yelling if that makes you feel better."

Potter glared at Snape with all the fury of his frustration, gripping a slightly smoking wand. Snape returned the stare in a similar fashion.

"Wait!" Lily stepped between them hastily. "If all three of us tried the same spell together-"

Snape lowered his wand.

"If each of us had Dumbledore's power or more and we tried to break this magic together, we still would not succeed."

"How do you know that?" Potter asked.

"There is a sign on the door," said Snape. "It has a meaning."

Potter stared at the stamp and the inscription, frowning in concentration. Lily was about to speak, when their attention was caught by a strange noise and they all spun around at the same time. Through the still open front door, a big black dog, the size of a smallish bear, ran into the building as though it was being chased by dragons.

"Padfoot!" Potter bellowed excitedly. "We are here! Hey!"

The last syllable expressed a degree of chagrin because the big black dog dashed towards one of the guards' corridors without glancing in their direction.

Lily and Potter exchanged an astonished look.

"Are you certain that it was Black, not another stray dog?" Snape asked, but before the other two could have given an answer, they heard speedy footsteps again, and this time it was Lupin who entered the building, closing the stone door behind him.

"Which way did he go?" he panted.

"That way," said Lily, hurrying to him. "But, Remus, please, stop, we need help... What's going on?"

When Lupin did not even look back, she ran after him.

"At least they are alive," Potter muttered.

Snape gazed after Lily, forgetting everything else for a moment, but then he checked himself. There was a suspicious silence behind his back, and he turned, expecting to find Potter glowering at him again - but he was wrong.

Potter's attention was fully occupied by the Dark Mark on the magical door. He was pointing his wand at the snake in the sign. No seer had ever read the omens of future troubles more accurately than Snape was able to sense what was going to happen, as he glimpsed him.

"Don't..." he groaned, but Potter was already shouting.

"Confringo!"

The spell hit the snake and Snape knew that no Shield Charm could help any more. If Potter was to be saved, something more powerful was needed immediately. He glanced around, but both Lily and Lupin had gone out of sight. He had remained alone with Potter.

The snake fired back, and the explosive sound that followed drowned Potter's yell, as it drowned Snape's furious and desperate cry. Yet, the silver doe shot out of the tip of his wand and without waiting for any instructions, sprang in front of Potter, her silver contours shining distinctly for a moment between him and the flash of green light...

The sound died away, leaving behind a ringing silence; the blinding light went out, and Snape saw Potter lying on the floor, knowing nothing about the world around him. Then Snape heard Lily's frantic screams, saw her come back running and drop on her knees by her husband.

"Rennervate!" she screamed hysterically.

Snape bent over Potter opposite Lily. Potter was moaning and convulsing as though in horrible pain, his eyes wide open and full of terror. He did not react to the cries of his wife, who was desperately trying to bring him back to consciousness.

"Allow me to try it," said Snape quietly. "He was hit by Dark Magic."

Lily silently withdrew but only a step. Snape held his wand above Potter's forehead. He could only hope that the magic he was going to use would work. Potter was extremely lucky to be alive at all, but Snape was convinced that the longer he remained in this state, the more difficult it would be to heal him eventually.

In the past months, he had found some apparently never used books in a shadowy corner of the library of Hogwarts. He had studied them carefully, and they seemed to open new perspectives of magical science to him. He had not yet discussed them with anyone, but he was quite sure that he had discovered a new approach to fighting dark spells and curses.

The books were about the methods of wizards in far-away lands, in many ways different from the spell-and-wand magic every wizard and witch in Britain knew. Snape's idea was based on the integration of some of their knowledge into an advanced version of standard Defence Against the Dark Arts theory. Apparently, these methods could be used very well in areas where no traditional spells could help, but he had not yet had a chance to try them out in practice.

His eyes were fixed on the spot where the tip of his wand was pointing, and he began to say - no, to chant, to sing what most wizards he knew would call a spell, but it was longer than a spell, and it was not to be shouted, but to be sung to a low and quiet, slightly monotonous and yet emotionally intense tune. His longing to see Lily comforted filled the song with the power of ancient magic, and his hand did not once tremble while he was holding the wand above Potter, who slowly became silent and tranquil. The convulsions and the moaning stopped, Potter's features were no longer distorted by the mad terror, and he was looking now, without a shadow of a doubt, at Lily, whose eyes smiled behind shimmering tears.

"Can you see me?" she whispered, only half-mastering her voice.

Potter nodded, his hand falteringly looking for hers.

"Let's take him to one of those rooms," said a shaky voice quite near them.

Lupin, Snape and Lily placed James Potter on a shabby sofa in one of the guards' offices. Lily was sitting by his side while Snape and Lupin were standing further away when Potter quite audibly pronounced Lily's name. Lupin muttered something about having to find Black and left. Snape did not care. From behind the sofa, he was watching Lily, who was bending close to Potter.

"You're a treasure," said a hoarse voice. "A real treasure."

Snape could be satisfied. If Potter was already able to say compliments to Lily, he would evidently survive. He turned towards the window and gazed into the barren, rocky landscape outside.

"You... saved my life," he heard Potter saying.

Snape was staring at the window as though there was something incredibly interesting in the emptiness before him. But he could have sworn that Lily was stroking Potter's hair.

"James," she said softly. "Actually, it was Severus."

Snape wheeled around as though he had been unexpectedly stung by an insect, and his eyes met Lily's, who cast a quick, grateful glance at him before continuing.

"You were unconscious but I could not do anything about it. It was Severus who managed to bring you back-"

"Deliver my thanks to him," Potter croaked. "But I meant ... before. When the door backfired, I ... would have ... died right there ... if you ... had not acted."

"I did not do anything," said Lily, sounding surprised.

Snape peered through the window again, wishing he had an Invisibility Cloak, too.

"I saw ... I recognized your... doe..." Potter panted and his speech was growing incoherent now. "Amazing magic... perfectly done ... beautiful ... so strong and so ... wonderful ... took the worst ... part ... of the curse. Saved me ... I adore you."

Potter became silent suddenly and in an odd way, and Snape glanced back over his shoulder. Lily was apparently bending even closer to Potter, her head disappearing behind the back of the sofa. Snape continued studying the empty landscape. It was raining out there.

There was something intoxicating in hearing Potter babble about _his_ magic in those terms and with such admiration; and a part of Snape was itching to see Potter's face when he found out the truth about the origin of the magic he thought so adorable. Another part of him, however, remained sober, and was simply scared of the idea that Potter - or Lily, or anyone else (besides Dumbledore, who already knew it) - could discover what his Patronus was. No, he was quite certain that he did not want to reveal _that_ to them... In vain had he hoped that Potter had not had the time to recognize the Patronus - and Lily would soon tell him that she had not even been near enough to do any magic in the crucial moment. Would they guess the truth?

His Patronus... Snape could feel a sudden pang of pain as he recalled the silver doe, her swiftness, her readiness to protect, her beauty... Why had he not taken a better look at her then, for what must have been the last time? He would never see her again.

Lily and Potter were still conspicuously silent, and it occurred to Snape that since they so obviously did not need his assistance any more, he might as well set out and do something useful. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. To reach the door of the office, he had to go past the sofa, but he would surely be able to do it without disturbing them.

He was just turning away from the window when he heard Lily saying his name. She hurried to him, a few tears glimmering on her eyelashes, her cheeks unusually rosy.

"He's fallen asleep," she said.

"Sleeping is good for him," Snape answered, not quite understanding what there was to cry about.

Lily nodded and smiled a little.

"Severus," she said quietly but composedly, wiping the tears out of her eyes, "I don't understand. I ... I did not cast a Patronus, I was not even there in time to do it. Yet, James says he saw my Patronus save his life. Do you think it is possible that my Patronus saved him - without my knowledge?"

Snape gaped at her. Did Lily really want him to tell her that such a thing was possible?

"Perhaps," he said, and looked away. It was difficult to lie while gazing into those bright green eyes. "I don't know."

"Well," she said, and Snape could not quite decide whether she sounded mildly disappointed or not, "I can also imagine that he only _thought_ he saw my Patronus. You know ... it was a moment of great stress, mortal danger... Perhaps it was only his imagination ... or something similar."

"It could be," said Snape, still avoiding her eyes.

"Dumbledore says a Patronus has a lot do with where one's heart really lies," Lily continued. "I think I will ask his opinion the next time I see him. It is so ... strange."

Snape made a mental note of having to talk to Dumbledore before Lily did.

"What counts is that he is alive and well," he said finally, this time looking straight into her green eyes, which brightened at once.

"Yes, and you must take credit for his recovery! That spell was brilliant! I've never seen anything similar. You should be a healer."

"I don't have the qualifications," he said, seemingly calm, successfully hiding the pleasure he found in seeing her joyful face.

"You could easily get the qualifications, "Lily said kindly.

_Except_ _that I never had the money to pay for any further education_, he thought.

And anyway... it did not matter now. He had no time for daydreams. He should be happy that he had had the chance to do a last, important service to her.

"I must go now," he said. "I must try something."

"The door!" she exclaimed. "What shall we do now? It cannot be opened."

"There is a way," said Snape languidly. "Potter was right. All magic can be broken, or, more precisely, every kind of magic has its countermagic, although it is not necessarily more powerful magic."

"I don't understand," said Lily.

"The Ultimate Protection," Snape explained, "was constructed by the Dark Lord to be able to resist the power of a hundred Dumbledores even. It is possible to invent such magic; only in that case, a price must be chosen - a price that, when paid, will break the magic. In return, the magic will resist everything else."

"So we have to find out what the price is?" Lily asked anxiously.

"No. I know what it is. The price attached to the Ultimate Protection is known by Death Eaters."

Lily's eyes grew huge.

"What is it then?"

"It is a price that the Dark Lord thinks no one ever will be willing to pay."

Lily swallowed hard.

"Someone's life?" she guessed.

"That is a plausible idea," Snape answered, "but actually the price is something else. The Dark Lord has his own sense of ... humour."

Lily shuddered.

"I'd better not guess. It must be something valuable."

"Yes, very valuable. Breaking the protection requires the sacrifice of someone's full magical power."

Lily sat down on a nearby chair.

"So someone must lose their magic - forever?"

"Exactly," said Snape.

There was a long pause. Finally, Lily spoke.

"There are only two of us here. I mean - James is injured. We can't expect any other volunteers to turn up, and time is precious. We don't know what's happening to Mary and all the people we have come to set free. I ... I will do it."

Snape scrutinized her, deep in thought.

"Would you really?"

"Yes," Lily answered, "don't look at me like this. It is either you or -" she stopped and buried her face into her hands.

"Lily," said Snape, but she was shaking her head without removing her hands. A few moments later she looked up nevertheless.

"Severus, you have just helped James, and even without that, we both owe our lives to you. I cannot let you make this sacrifice. It would be unjust."

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Lily did not let him interrupt her.

"I am Muggleborn anyway. I know how to do things in the Muggle way. I could live like-"

"Like your sister," Snape put in somewhat mockingly. "How is she these days?"

Lily raised an eyebrow.

"She is married to a Muggle by the name of Vernon Dursley, who has more or less convinced her to break all ties with us. It can't have been very difficult anyway. But it does not matter. Not all Muggles are the same. My parents were nice people."

"I know," said Snape with a slightly apologetic look. "But you belong to us ... I mean to the magical community. You couldn't go and live among Muggles."

Now that he had said it, he was suddenly eager to hear her reply. He wanted to hear strong, persuasive arguments, which could help one make the final decision...

"Why would I?" said Lily defiantly. "I've got a magical family. You see how much James loves me. We would not be the first magical-non-magical couple."

"No," he admitted, thinking of Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape.

"In fact," said Lily quietly, "I have already got so much - a loving husband, a wonderful child, a nice home and plenty of money to spend - and friends, of course, great friends..."

Her expression gradually softened as she was speaking, and when she mentioned her friends, it seemed her gaze was caressing Snape.

"There is no reason why I could not be happy without magic," she finished, sounding almost triumphant, "especially, when I know that my sacrifice has saved so many lives."

A fire lit up in her eyes, as she managed to convince herself of the happiness her sacrifice would bring, and she was so beautiful that Snape thought merely seeing her in that moment could give meaning to a life of fight and misery.

"Severus," she said solemnly, eyes shining. "Let's hurry up. Tell me what to do."

He did not answer immediately. He wanted, for once, to delay the moment, because he wanted to watch her for a while yet before the magic was over. Forever.

The brilliance in her eyes gradually gave way to something else. She could sense that something was amiss.

"Severus? I do have your support, I hope? You will help me now - like a true friend."

"You cannot do it," he said firmly.

"Why not?" Lily snapped, angry now that her moment of inspiration was being wasted. "I know you are a very brave man, but I am no coward either! I could have died in battle like any of us - why do you think I can't make this particular sacrifice? I am as good an Order member as you are-"

"Probably better," said Snape, "and that is precisely the reason why you cannot do it."

Lily was staring at him.

"Explain," she said curtly.

"Lily," he said, "please, hear me out. If anyone could do it, the door would already be open. I would not hesitate for a moment to sacrifice the magic of one of the guards that we captured."

He could tell that the idea of forcing someone to make the sacrifice had not occurred to her. But at least she did not object.

"They used their magic to do bad things," she said in a small voice. "You're right. They would deserve it."

Something flashed in Snape's eyes.

"Good point," he said. "Besides, it could be a fair price for one of them in exchange for avoiding Azkaban. I don't think non-magical people are ever taken there... It is another question how they would escape the Dark Lord's revenge afterwards. But they cannot do it. Nor could _you_ do it - or even Potter. I haven't told you everything yet."

"Who can do it?" Lily asked tensely.

Snape's eyes bored into hers.

"I can," he said.

"But ... why?"

"It is simple," Snape said. "The Ultimate Protection will only allow Death Eaters to pass through. If a Death Eater enters on the Dark Lord's orders - or at least with his permission - the protection will remain intact. You see, in this way, the Dark Lord could still maintain this prison by sending here Death Eaters on errands without having to come and go himself. If, however, a Death Eater enters without the Dark Lord's express permission, if any Death Eaters try to use the place protected by the Ultimate Protection for their own purposes, the Death Eater's magical power will be lost and the protection will break. That is why every Death Eater must know about this magic. The true meaning of the Ultimate Protection is that no Death Eaters are willing to sacrifice their magical power for ... for anything. Yet, the price that must be paid to break the magic is - quite precisely - _the full magical power and the wand of a Death Eater_."

"But the prison guards," Lily began.

"They are not Death Eaters, only lesser servants. They don't belong to the inner circle."

"But y-you," Lily stammered, "you are not a Death Eater at all. You have left them!"

"I don't think the door knows that," said Snape. "It will only check whether I have the Dark Lord's permission or not, and it will identify me as a Death Eater because ..." he went closer to the window and stood there with his back towards Lily; "...because it recognizes Death Eaters by their Dark Marks."

He turned back slowly, and he saw exactly the sort of bewilderment on Lily's face that he had expected.

"Their ... Dark Marks?" Lily whispered. "What do you mean?"

Snape gave no response but started towards the door.

"Severus!" she demanded, standing up. "I'm asking you a question!"

He stopped.

"Are you sure that you want to know the answer?"

"Yes," said Lily fiercely.

Snape glanced towards the sofa, but Potter was snoring evenly. Maybe it was just as well... Seeing Lily disgusted with what he had done might strengthen his determination. He did not have a family or a nice home to comfort him for the loss. Being reminded that he deserved it could perhaps help.

He strode back to Lily, and pulled up his left sleeve, watching her intently all the time. Lily did not scream, and she did not try to back away, she merely glared at the Mark as though she could not believe her eyes.

"Did _he_ do this to you?" she asked with horror.

Snape covered his arm.

"It is supposed to be an honour," he said, his voice colourless.

"Severus," she said. "This is not how I wanted it, but-"

He shrugged.

"You have just said that those who used their magic to do bad things deserve this fate."

"I did not mean you, as you know very well!"

"You should not develop illusions about me," said Snape dourly. "I took this Mark voluntarily... Now it enables us to free the prisoners, including your friend Mary. Some of them will be undoubtedly alive yet."

He was not a hundred per cent certain of the latter, but he did his best to fight off the most pessimistic thoughts. He wished he could have the same enthusiasm that had been burning in Lily's eyes before. He did not have any eloquent thoughts. All he could think about was the bare fact that someone had to open that door and he was the only one who could do it, and he knew the reason why. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible; therefore he was walking hurriedly towards the magical door, Lily following him.

"Maybe," he said to her as though he was only thinking aloud, "this was Dumbledore's intention when he asked me to participate in this mission."

This thought had been on his mind ever since he had recognized the Ultimate Protection.

"Dumbledore intended you to do _this_?" Lily gasped. "But how?"

"He may have guessed," said Snape "that there would be some protection requiring the magic attached only to a Dark Mark. He may have enlisted me specifically to do this job if necessary."

They were in front of the door now.

Lily grabbed the door handle, but the door stood as firmly as before.

"Stand back," said Snape.

He reached for the door handle with his left hand. He could instantly feel a stream of magic, a dark, destructive force becoming alive in his forearm, as his Dark Mark began to burn. The door swung open, revealing the dark corridor behind, and with a loud crack, Snape's wand was severed in two.


	11. Saving Lives

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world with all the characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 11**

_Saving Lives_

"Severus..."

This was not the time to receive condolences. The luxury of despair had to wait. With a feeling of sickness, Snape hid the pieces of his wand in one of his pockets, and hastily cut Lily short.

"Close the entrance quickly," he said to her, speaking very fast. "Use your own wand, not the guards', and put up the strongest protective spells that you know. Run!"

Lily did not ask questions. The front door was just a few steps away from where they were standing, and Snape could soon hear her reciting various spells of protection. He did not know whether the Dark Lord was aware of the breaking of the Ultimate Protection, but he could not rule it out. However, he was convinced that the defence system of the stronghold (possibly of the whole island) collapsed with the Ultimate Protection; therefore it was at last possible for them to surround themselves with their own spells to keep Death Eaters away. He could not really hope, of course, that Lily's hastily placed spells would mean a serious obstacle to the Dark Lord if the Dark Lord came in person; but they would at least give him some time to try to save her.

He peered into the dark corridor, where he could catch a glimpse of a dim, wavering light for a moment, and took a few steps ahead, unable to decide whether his increasing queasiness and exhaustion could more likely be caused by the loss of his magical power or by the unhealthily foul air in this part of the prison building. He stopped suddenly, realizing that he was walking on a wet, slimy and slippery surface, considerably different from the one he remembered from the time when he had been there first. He could hear noises from the depth of the darkness, splashing and paddling noises and the sounds of frightened human voices, echoing eerily from the stone walls.

"Aaah!" Lily nearly slipped when she ran back to him. She grabbed his arm.

"What's this?"

"We need some more light," he said

"Oh, sorry... Lumos!" said Lily, illuminating their surroundings. "Severus, I think I'm going to be sick," she added, as they both could distinctly feel the foulness of the air getting stronger around them, and by the light of Lily's wand, they saw a treacherous and extensive swamp stretching into the various corridors in every direction.

"Try to purify the air," he said. "Dry up this swamp. It won't be difficult now, I'm sure the magic that has produced it is not operating any more."

Well, at least he was _hoping_ that.

Lily walked ahead, murmuring spells, and the swamp slowly began to withdraw, the light was growing stronger, and as shots of flames issued from her wand and went out again, the air was becoming gradually cleaner and fresher. Snape followed her, and saw that the swamp had indeed spread out all over the dark corridors and it was alarmingly deep in the places where the dangerous substance in the air was the most abundant.

He understood now the Dark Lord's full plan concerning the prison. Considering the size of the swamp and the amount of its sickening vapour in the air, he calculated that the swamp must have appeared in the dark corridors as soon as the Ultimate Protection had taken effect. It had been designed to kill the prisoners when the prison fell into others' hands - unless the Dark Lord regained control of it soon enough to halt the spreading of the lethal magic.

It was not by accident that the prison had not been guarded by anyone wearing the Dark Mark (Snape had checked that during his last visit to the captured guards). The Dark Lord had made sure that his prison guards could not fully betray him, and he thought of everything; except one thing perhaps: he could not imagine that anyone who had taken the Mark from him would be willing to voluntarily pay the horrible price that he had set.

Lily magically cleared their way of a large, deep section of the swamp, leading to a junction in the maze of corridors and separating them from the sources of the various sounds that they heard again and again. They found that many cells had already been open, and two of the prisoners - a middle aged, robust wizard and a pale little witch with mousy hair - had wands, which turned out to be the two wands that Mary had taken from the guards. It seemed she had opened the cells, and given the wands to these prisoners, who had managed to slow down the swamp a little, although it had soon become obvious that they were fighting a losing battle.

No one knew where Mary was.

A heroic effort started against the swamp and for the people who were already trapped by or fallen into the deep, dirty water. Some of the prisoners were strong enough to help others. It was imperative to get the sick and the feeble out of the damp and malodorous corridors urgently.

Lily was still fighting to keep the air relatively clean and the floor at least relatively dry, while Snape was lighting torches, pulling people out of cells and sometimes out of water, helping them to get to the guards' corridors. The big black dog was running about again, sniffing and growling, and Snape was beginning to suspect that Black had been hit by a curse that made him unable to change back into his human form. That would explain all the growling and the nervousness. He had to admit that it would be an even worse situation than his own; but later he saw Black again, this time in his human shape, together with Lupin, participating in the rescue, both wearing the same, unusually grim expression.

In a solitary moment, far from the lights, Snape tried the wand that he had snatched from a prison guard and had used earlier to open the front door, but it was as passive in his hands as the most ordinary piece of wood waiting to be burned in a Muggle fireplace. He gave it to one of the freed prisoners at the earliest opportunity. For the moment, he found enough non-magical work to occupy himself in a useful way.

In fact, when he again had some time to think about it, he realized that he was not feeling as unwell as he would have expected after the shock of losing his magic, and it was especially remarkable considering where he was and what he was doing. Yet, he was feeling drained and weak, although it was not physical weakness - the rescue work was hard enough to test anyone's physical strength and he did not think he was much behind Black or Lupin in this respect.

Still, when he gave the guard's wand away, he was nearly overwhelmed by waves of disgust, fatigue, even burn-out, as though the mere sight of the alien wand was unbearable, and he felt something close to relief when he had got rid of the revolting little thing, which he could never use in future anyway.

He found a cell which had been flooded by the swamp, and its occupant survived only because he was rather taller than most people, but had become terribly sick anyway. Snape knew that the swamp would have killed a lot of people if he had hesitated just a little longer to open the door, and it was a horrifying realization; but even more disturbing was the guilt-ridden thought that some _more_ people could have been saved - perhaps - if he had acted as soon as he had recognized the Ultimate Protection.

Lily, exhausted now by continuously casting spells and keeping up the magic that was cleaning up the prison, received help in the shape of James Potter, who unexpectedly emerged from the guard's office. Snape saw that his face had a greenish hue, but he was apparently well enough to take the job over from her. Soon Snape found himself cornered by Lily near the end of one of the dimly lit corridors, as he was hurrying to check some of the remotest cells of the prison.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in a tone normally used to talk to the mortally ill.

"Fine," he said, although his face must have belied his word, because Lily tried for a faint smile but failed.

"Listen, Sirius says that Dumbledore is here... on the Order's island, I mean. He came to help fight the Death Eaters, and Sirius has now sent a message to him... A lot of these people need to be taken to the healers as soon as possible. I think you need a healer, too."

"There is not much a healer could do about me," he said bitterly. He was sure that the damage was designed to be permanent.

"Maybe this magic has its countermagic, too," she suggested.

"Every magic has its countermagic," he murmured. "True. But there is harm that cannot be undone - just think of the Killing Curse."

"But you are alive!"

Snape peered into the semi-darkness.

"Would you do something for me?" he asked.

"If I can," said Lily.

"Don't tell them," he said. "Don't tell anyone yet... I want to keep it secret while I can. Will you promise?"

Not that there was any real chance of disguising one's inability to do magic for long, but he wanted to avoid making it public knowledge and having it discussed behind his back as long as it was possible. It was quite enough to feel suddenly robbed, even maimed, and turned into a pathetic reminder of the wizard he had once been; he did not need to experience others' pity or horror or curiosity.

"Of course, I will" Lily replied, her voice trailing off. She turned and slowly walked away, as one would leave the sickbed of a friend who already knew that he could not be cured.

In one of the remotest cells, Snape found Mary Macdonald, curled up on the floor by the cold body of a dead old man with puddles of the drying swamp around them. It was evident that she had been crying, and it was also clear that she was too weak to leave the cell alone. She looked up at Snape when he entered.

"Come," he said, holding out a helping hand.

Mary closed her hazel eyes and slightly shook her head in a gesture of refusal, but Snape was not to be spurned now. Seeing all these men and women being rescued filled him with a peculiar sense of possession as though each saved life was a life of his own, dearly bought, and each lost life was stolen from him, personally. He was clinging on to these lives with an iron will, and he was not going to lose more than he could not help losing. Mary opened her eyes again. Her face reflected a new kind of shock when their eyes met, and her sorrow surrendered to something stronger radiating from the black eyes.

Snape escorted her to the rooms where already many of the ill, injured and tortured prisoners had gathered, receiving whatever treatment or relief their stronger fellow-prisoners could give them. The old man was laid in another room, along with the other dead victims of the Dark Lord's prison.

Then someone's terrified cry shook the rooms.

"Death Eaters!"

A mere glance through the window confirmed the bad news: The Death Eaters were indeed coming, dark and hooded as always. They stopped at a distance from the stone building. The protective spells cast by Lily were working very well. Potter, who, in Moody's absence, had apparently assumed the role of a leader, began to organize everyone who was strong enough to fight and had a wand (the twenty wands taken from the prison guards had already been distributed among the freed prisoners) for a battle.

Snape was observing the Death Eaters from a window, thinking hard. It would take some time for the enemy to break the protection. In the meantime, they provided excellent targets for the spells coming from the fortress. Even if they Disillusioned themselves; without a solid background, in the open landscape, they would be visible enough. Snape was convinced that they had come because the Dark Lord had noticed the breaking of the Ultimate Protection; therefore they were probably without a real plan, which meant another advantage for the Order and the prisoners. The fortress appeared to be defendable for a while unless -

"SNAPE!" roared a voice behind his back. "What are you doing? I thought you were sending curses at the Death Eaters with Sirius and Remus! I thought EVERYONE here took part in the fight!"

Potter was yelling, yelling at _him_, roughly in the style of a Muggle sergeant shouting at his soldiers that Snape had once seen in a Muggle movie. Snape was obviously far away from the place allocated to him by Potter, about which he had not even known, so little attention had he paid to Potter's instructions, which he had no hope of following. Several of the freed prisoners (who had readily accepted Potter's leadership) were staring at him now, hearing every word of the telling-off.

A vein was throbbing nervously on Potter's temple, but before Snape could have given him an appropriate answer, someone else spoke.

"ENOUGH OF THAT!" shrieked Lily at the top of her voice. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Potter stepped back instinctively, and Snape could perfectly understand why: Lily was glaring at him, furious to the point of terrifying. The two men were equally astounded and lost for words. Lily did not stop.

"Haven't you noticed that he is doing his best all the time?" she continued shrilly, still addressing her husband. "You'd better use your head and think, James Potter, before you judge what you don't understand!"

She threw a fiery look at Snape, who almost thought that it was his turn now; but Lily's gaze jumped back to Potter immediately.

"I can't stand it when you two start quarrelling! I am ... sick of it!"

She stormed away. James Potter gulped and looked round as though for support.

"What is she talking about?" he snorted indignantly. "Making a scene right now when-"

But Snape, who a moment before had pointedly refused to grant Potter a glance of man-to-man solidarity and directed his attention back to the window instead, did not let him finish the sentence.

"Maybe you could postpone this," he said, trying to sound much less frightened than he really was. "The Dark Lord has arrived."

It was true. The Dark Lord, livid and revengeful, had just Apparated to the island.

"We are going to fight," said Potter, his lips whitened.

"No," Snape corrected. "We are going to Disapparate."

Using the first person was more than optimistic on his part, but he did not want to confuse Potter with minor details.

"If we lift the Anti-Apparition wards..." said Potter, but Snape cut him short.

"If we don't lift the wards, the Dark Lord will break them. We have not come here to fight for an empty piece of rock; we have come to set these people free and keep them alive. Everyone must Disapparate at the same time, as soon as our wards are lifted. Those who don't have wands must be taken side-along."

"Severus is right," said Lupin, sending a wordless apology towards Potter. "We must make sure that everyone leaves safely."

Lily had come back to them with Lupin and Black. She was pale and her anger had apparently melted. It took only a minute for Snape to explain what they had to do. He asked Lily to inform the others and organize pairs and small groups for the Disapparition. Potter, Black and Lupin were to keep up the magical protection until everyone was ready to start.

"And you?" asked Potter, as Lupin and Black began strengthening the protective spells. "What are _you_ going to do?"

Snape's lips curled up a bit.

"I will be the lookout and I will alert everyone instantly if the protection breaks early, if a Death Eater gets but a step closer to the building."

"It won't break," Potter promised gravely.

Snape went to an upstairs window, where he had a better view of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, who was waving his wand, sending flashes of light around the large rock which was in reality a prison-fortress. There was a large gong at arm's length from Snape, which he was going to strike as a signal for Potter to lift the wards and for everyone to Disapparate.

Everyone, except...

"I'll stay behind," Lupin had said, "and see that no one gets stuck here, before I leave, too. Don't worry about me; I happen to have an invisibility cloak in my pocket. They won't notice me."

Snape did not have much time to ponder how nearly everyone but him possessed invisibility cloaks, because Lily was coming.

"Everyone is ready. You will Disapparate with me," she said. "Just so you know."

"On one condition, I will" he said.

Lily seemed surprised.

"If it turns out that I cannot do Apparition... Side-Along Apparition, I mean ... you will stop experimenting and you will leave without me immediately."

He was not sure whether wizards and witches were able to take along non-magical people when they Apparated. Lily did not know what to say, but Snape had to watch the Dark Lord now, not her; and so he did. Potter ran to them, exhausted.

"Well?" he asked Lily. "We can't hold out for ever."

She nodded, just when Snape gasped, his eyes fixed intently on a spot outside.

"What is it?" Lily asked, leaping to the window. The next moment she threw her arms around Potter's neck, laughing with relief.

"Dumbledore, James, it is Dumbledore!"

The Dark Lord whirled around, as the white-haired, white-bearded wizard appeared, followed by a group of aurors. The duel between the dark wizard and the white wizard was short though spectacular. In the end, the dark wizard Disapparated. The battle between the Death Eaters and the aurors (aided by Potter, Black, Lupin and some of the former prisoners) lasted a little longer, although many Death Eaters fled as soon as their boss did. A few of them, however, were captured by the aurors.

The door of the fortress opened once again. The aurors officially arrested the captured prison guards and began to organize the departure from the island. Snape's emergency plan for mass Disapparition was replaced by a plan more suitable for the various needs of the ill and the injured. They were also going to carry the dead to the Order's island for burial.

Suddenly with nothing to do, Snape, Lily, Potter, Black and Lupin sat down on rocks in the open air, comfortably away from the prison building, to exchange information. Each was holding a bottle of butterbeer, which Black had Summoned from the guards' kitchen and which must have been among the most palatable items found on the island. At a distance, they saw Dumbledore walking around the walls, examining them with his wand, no doubt searching for bits of intelligence about their magic and the Dark Lord.

"Where is Moody?" Potter asked. "What happened after the four of us left you?"

"The aurors arrived," said Black, "as soon as you left. In fact, they had been nearby before that but could not enter. They noticed when you lifted the wards to Disapparate, and flew in."

"After a while," Lupin continued, "things began to look bad for us. Moody was seriously injured - don't worry, he was alive the last time we saw him, but at first we were afraid of the worst. Then Dumbledore came, bringing some Order members."

"Since the battle was in good hands then," Black said, "we came away. After you."

"You did not seem to be looking for _us_," Potter remarked, but Lupin jumped to his feet.

"Dumbledore is coming this way! I must talk to him."

Black stared after his friend. The ensuing silence was broken by Lily.

"Have you found out anything about Peter? He was not here."

"Don't be so sure of that," Black said with a darkened face. "But it is a good question where ... _Peter_ is..."

"I hope he used his little trick and escaped," Potter sighed. "He is good at hiding."

"Tell me what _you_ have been doing," said Black, changing the topic. "Where is Mary?"

"She is ill," said Lily. "I've just been to see her. She fought with us when we attacked the prison, but then she was trapped behind the magical door, and she was badly affected by that evil magic."

She cast an uneasy glance at Snape.

"I still don't know how that door was opened," Potter put in.

"Severus did it, "Lily replied, and Potter opened his mouth, then closed it again, when Black abruptly laughed out aloud.

"I have almost forgotten! Snape, those traps of yours were still good for something! Several Death Eaters got caught in them when they searched the camp after the fire. I reckon they are still there."

Snape was eyeing Potter.

"Did you change the password after I got trapped?"

"You said I had to," Potter answered.

"But you never told me the new one."

"We had other things to mind, didn't we?" Potter said.

He frowned.

"The problem is ... blimey, I can't recall the word at all!"

"Bad news for those blokes," Black yawned absent-mindedly and he did not seem sorry at all.

Potter shrugged. "Sooner or later, I will remember anyway."

The conversation stopped when Lupin returned, bringing Dumbledore, who sat down with them, next to Snape, and produced a box of chocolate cauldrons.

"Help yourselves," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I'm starving," said Potter. "Does anyone remember when we last had a meal?"

"Don't be ungrateful," said Black. "We had a healthy dose of potion this morning if not a proper meal. It can't be more than four o'clock yet."

They spent a few minutes munching chocolate cauldrons in silence. When the box was empty, Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"May I have a word with you, Severus?" he asked quietly.

Snape nodded and was about to stand up, but Dumbledore gestured him to stay. The others resumed their chat around them.

"I just want to mention two things briefly so that you know," the old wizard began. "There will be more time to discuss them later. One is that I am confident that certain ... official matters of yours will soon be solved. It means you should expect a hearing in the near future."

Snape regarded Dumbledore with a blank expression. Would a hearing still be relevant in his case? If it was, did it matter?

"The other topic concerns your job at Hogwarts," the professor continued. "It is the end of the school-year, and this time not only our Defence Against the Dark Arts colleague handed in his resignation to me, but Horace as well. He wants to retire; therefore we need a new Potions teacher... Naturally, that will affect your job, as, for the moment, you are the assistant of an elderly professor, who needs your help. However, a new, younger professor would probably be expected to be able to do all the traditional tasks of a Hogwarts Potions teacher so the Ministry will not need to pay two salaries instead of one."

"I understand," said Snape. "I will leave then."

How convenient it was... Obviously, he could not keep his job without magical abilities. Now he would have an excellent reason to go away.

"You don't understand," said Dumbledore. "I am not asking you to leave; I would like you to stay at Hogwarts as our new Potions Master."

Snape gaped at him.

"You must know," said Dumbledore, "that I cannot offer you this job _officially_ before you are acquitted of the charges against you, but there is still time, and I do hope it will soon happen."

Dumbledore looked at Snape expectantly, but Snape had no idea what to answer. Of course, he would have to tell the truth but he meant to do it privately, not with Potter and his friends within earshot. Dumbledore was watching him closely for a while.

"That is all I wanted to say," he announced finally and got to his feet. He beamed at everyone at large. "We are soon going to leave this place and I must now destroy the prison as thoroughly as possible. Lord Voldemort may return later, but he should not be too happy with what he finds here."

He strode away. Lily rose, too, and left. Potter, Black and Lupin were too deep in conversation to heed anything else, so Snape stayed where he was, feeling confused and unhappy. Dumbledore's offer was unexpected and amazing: He did not remember ever hearing about anyone appointed a Hogwarts teacher at this age. It was undoubtedly an honour, and yet, he would rather not have found out what _could have been_, when it was absolutely impossible now.

He was roused from these thoughts by Potter's booming shouts.

"Yes, the Patronus saved my life! It was aaaaawesome!!! You know if I were not already in love, I could fall in love with her for this instance of magic alone!"

"We know, Prongs, you could, and believe me, we are _all_ green with envy," said Sirius Black, who had never thought of getting married yet, and with a degree of presumptuous familiarity that was both outrageous and shocking, he winked at Snape.


	12. The Blue Stone

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 12**

_The Blue Stone_

The former prisoners who were well enough to travel on their own Disapparated or left on the broomsticks that they had found in the broomstick cupboards of the fortress. Healers arrived at the island to help prepare the ill and the injured (including a few aurors) for the journey to the Order's island, where an emergency medical centre was being set up for those who were too ill to be transported all the way to St. Mungo's. A small contingent of aurors got ready to take the captured prison guards and Death Eaters to Azkaban.

Dumbledore destroyed the prison building and went back to the Order base ahead of the others to further strengthen the defences of the place and to prepare it for the arrival of so many people. James, Sirius and Remus distributed the broomsticks and offered to help the aurors by accompanying them to Azkaban with the captured guards. Lily was of the opinion that James, considering his recent serious injury, had better not risk the long journey on a broomstick yet, but her husband would not hear of staying behind or having himself transported among the wounded.

"Of course, I can ride a broomstick!" he said indignantly. "We'll be back in no time!"

He demonstrated his famous flying skill at once. True, his flight was not quite as graceful and virtuoso as other times - he even seemed to be a bit unsure at first, when he mounted the broomstick - but his optimism and self-confidence made up for these initial blunders and a minute later he was improvising a one-man air parade, to the delight of a couple of female aurors. He insisted, however, that Lily should go directly to the Order's island with the healers, and Lily did not argue.

Soon two groups of wizards and witches were flying towards the horizon, rapidly becoming smaller and smaller from the perspective of the only person watching them from the prison island. Snape angrily threw the battered broom he was holding onto the ground as though it had been the fault of the pathetic flying instrument, not his own, that he was - again - in trouble. He knew that he should have asked for help, but Dumbledore had unexpectedly left before he managed to catch him alone, and he could no more imagine himself being transported on a stretcher than Potter could; therefore he had kept delaying what he should have done, and this was the result. He had ended up left behind, alone, with a broomstick that he could not use.

He had been encouraged to pick a broom for himself by Black, but he had let others go ahead, and, in the end, he had unerringly chosen the one that would surely have made flying next to impossible even if he had all his magical power and a proper wand. The wood had cracked along almost the full length of the broomstick, and although he had tried a couple of hopeless "up"-s, sticking out his right hand over that miserable excuse of a vehicle, the broomstick had done exactly what he had expected it to do: It stayed motionless on the ground.

The two tiny dots in the cloudy sky had already vanished, but he could still perceive some movement above, quite close to him. He turned his head and he saw the broomstick approaching fast, the familiar figure of its rider, the fiery red hair floating in the wind. Lily slowed down her broom and stopped in front of him.

"I thought that you were waiting for me," she said. "I just did not know where."

"Should not you have gone with the healers?" Snape asked, a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth.

"_You_ should have gone with them," said Lily sternly. "You are gravely injured."

He frowned.

"All right," Lily sighed. "It's time we left. I can hardly wait to take a rest."

She looked indeed tired.

"Since we don't know how Apparition would agree with you in your ... present state, we will fly," she explained. "I don't want to risk splinching you."

She glanced at the broomstick at Snape's feet and raised her own.

"I managed to get a better one than that. Not exactly world-class but it will do... You will only have to sit and hold on while I'm flying it. It should work."

They both mounted the broom, Snape sitting behind her at the far end, clutching the wood and feeling awkward. Somewhat shakily, the broomstick shot into the air, and Lily flew a few circles above the island, changing speed and height several times. Finally, she landed again.

"What's wrong?" asked Snape, who was beginning to wonder how he would succeed in staying on the broomstick when they were flying above the sea.

It seemed Lily was wondering the same.

"I really don't want you to fall off... and I have no idea if you are still there or not when we fly. Besides, it is more difficult to control the broom now than when I'm alone on it. Could you hold on to _me_ instead of gripping the broomstick itself? It may help."

Of course, Snape could. He carefully put his hands on Lily's shoulders, and with billowing robes, they started again. They swiftly left the island behind, and the broomstick was rising rapidly, although Lily had some difficulty keeping the right direction in the strong headwind. Snape realized that she had to concentrate very hard, and he wished he could help. But he did not have a better idea than leaving go of her shoulders to avoid restricting the movements of her arms in a particularly difficult situation. A second later, the broomstick nearly turned a somersault, Lily screamed and Snape almost fell. He managed to regain his normal sitting position and he instinctively grabbed Lily's waist with both his hands.

The broomstick flew on. Lily was in control and Snape was feeling a little dizzy, but it had nothing to do with the depth below or the near-somersault of the broomstick. He had never been this close to Lily before. Her hair was tickling his face.

Lily shot a quick glance at him over her shoulder.

"Severus, don't do that again!"

She had to shout to make her voice properly heard in the whistling wind. Snape guiltily took his hands off her waist.

"I said stop doing that!" Lily shouted again.

Snape was puzzled

"What?" he shouted back, balancing himself on the broomstick with great effort.

"You keep letting go of me in the scariest moments! This is not a game! Can you imagine how I would feel if you fell off?"

Snape would have liked to reply that he could not and ask her to explain, but instead he silently put his arms around Lily's slender waist again.

"Hold on tight," she warned, "or I will have to put a Sticking Charm on you!"

So Snape was holding on tight.

The weather became less windy over time, the sun reappeared, and its golden rays warmed and encouraged the weary travellers. Lily got more confident handling the broomstick, and Snape found the situation quite agreeable now. Feeling Lily in his arms inspired his imagination and soon he was having wild fantasies about the two of them. After all, Lily had taken his side earlier that day, when Potter had been yelling at him, she did her best to keep his secret, and she had stayed behind on the prison island just for his sake when Potter had told her to go with the healers... and now she _wanted_ him to hold her tight, and she had even made this mysterious allusion to how she would feel if Snape fell off.

Could all this be the sign of mere friendship? Or was it possible that he was becoming even more than a friend to her? Snape chose the answer that he preferred, and suddenly the existence of any Potters seemed to be an almost insignificant circumstance, which could not prevent any of his latest fantasies from becoming reality.

Immersed in these very pleasant thoughts, he was almost disappointed at how quickly they had reached the coast of the Order's island. There the broom stopped in midair, and Lily could do nothing to make it go ahead.

"The auxiliary wand!" Snape suggested. "You need the auxiliary wand!"

"Of course ..." Lily answered. "Here it is."

She took her auxiliary wand out of her pocket and pointed it towards the island. Instantly, the broomstick soared ahead as though it had been pushed from behind by a giant. Snape was quite astonished because so far Lily had appeared to place safety before speed, but it did not take him long to realize that something was wrong. The broomstick was still accelerating and Lily was frantically trying to control it but in vain.

Then they were flying so fast that Snape could see nothing else but colours: Something green all around them, then something blue below, and then some whiteness that they were rapidly plunging into, and finally it was dark everywhere, and the broomstick was still hurtling uncontrollably downwards, taking frightening turns from time to time in both directions. Lily was quivering with fear and Snape was holding on to her as tight as he could, and just when he felt that their speed had reached an unbearable level, the broomstick slowed down and they landed on something solid. Surprisingly enough, Snape found that he was not hurt at all.

"Lily," he whispered, "are you all right?"

"I'm alive," came the similarly quiet reply. "Other than that... I don't know."

Snape carefully got up from the ground where he had fallen, and he could feel Lily, very close to him, trying to do the same. He found her hand and helped her.

"Have you got your wand?" he asked her.

"I'm looking for it," she breathed. "Here ... Lumos."

The light first illuminated the face of a very pale Lily and the broken pieces of the broomstick, then, as she held out the wand, it lit up their surroundings as well. There were walls on two sides and a low ceiling above them, the place was narrow and dark, the air clear and cold and the surfaces rough. Snape took a few steps then peered into the distance, where he could make out a long, narrow passageway. He touched the passage wall next to him.

"Limestone," he said. "I think this is a cave."

"But how did we get here?" Lily moaned. "I lost control of the broomstick. I could not do anything; it acted on its own!"

"Magic," said Snape. "It was some sort of magic, but I don't know what kind."

"You don't think we got into ..." Lily paused before she could voice the terrifying thought that had just occurred to her, "... another one of _his_ prisons?"

Snape was pondering the idea. Would the Dark Lord have several prisons? Or had he managed to set up a new one so soon? But even then, how had he captured them right on the edge of Order territory?

"I think," he said "that we are on the Order's island, or rather under it. I saw the forest and ... I think I saw the pond, too. We must be in a cave under the forest pond."

Lily's eyes opened wide.

"Do you think the Death Eaters have taken our island?"

She glanced round.

"Oh, Severus, this is such a horrible place! It makes me feel so helpless."

She buried her face against his shoulder, and Snape - hesitantly - stroked her hair.

"Well," he said, "we can check if there are others here besides us. Or you can try and send a message to Dumbledore."

He was quite certain that Dumbledore at least was not the Dark Lord's prisoner. _Dumbledore_ could help them.

Lily nodded and her trembling hand raised her wand.

"Expecto ... Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum ..."

A silvery cloud issued from her wand, and vanished immediately.

"I can't do it," she said with horror.

"Try again," said Snape, and Lily tried but to no avail.

"Think of a happy memory," he said, but Lily was desperately shaking her head.

"I can't think of anything happy," she confessed. "I am thinking of James and Harry, I always think of them when I cast a Patronus, but now I have this terrible feeling that I will never see them again... and I simply cannot concentrate on any happy thoughts. I'm scared."

Snape swallowed hard. It was quite shocking to see Lily weak and trembling. She had always been strong and in full control of her magic and her will ... even in the Dark Lord's prison back in September. But now she was trembling that she would never see Potter and their son again, and this was the thought that weakened her so much. _James and Harry_ ...

"It must be this awful place..." she continued. "Or the falling ... Severus, if we survive, I don't ever want to ride a broomstick again!"

Snape forced an unreadable expression on his face.

"Oh, come on... what would Potter say if he heard that?"

Lily gaped at him.

"He would be upset, I know... But no, he would not..."

She actually smiled now, faintly and sadly, but smiled.

"He would laugh at me and he would want to take me on a flight with him at once..."

"And naturally, you would go with him," said Snape.

Lily sighed.

"I guess it would be all right if _he_ flew that broomstick ... if_ I_ did not have to fly it.... Of course, I would go, Severus, I would do anything if I could see him and Harry again!"

Snape was afraid that Lily might break down. Being perfectly inexperienced in dealing with crying women, he wanted to avoid at least _that_. He seized her hand strongly.

"Come, let's see where we are. The way we came here may lead us out of here, too. Hold on tight, we must not lose each other. Follow me."

Lily gave him her wand with the light at its tip as Snape was now going ahead. The only thing he knew was that they had come from above; and the position of the broken broomstick on the ground showed them the direction as well. They climbed a long, winding passage leading upwards, and they arrived at a place where the passage widened into a large cave chamber, from which several other passages were leading both up and down.

Snape was turning around, illuminating each of the passages in turn. The ones leading downwards could easily be ruled out, as he very well remembered that the broomstick had been descending and never ascending with them, but even so there were three rising passages left, and he could not recall which way they had come.

"Lily?" he asked. "What do you think?"

"Water," she said quite clearly.

"Water?" he repeated anxiously, wondering what Lily could mean. If she wanted water, she knew as well as he did that they did not have any.

"I can hear water," she said, pointing at the far side of the room. "There."

Snape began to listen, and now he, too, could hear it quite distinctly: Water was dripping somewhere nearby. They went closer to the source of the sound, and they found the spot where water, clear, pure water was dripping from the wall. Lily held her hands under the tiny spring, waited until enough water had gathered in her palms for a gulp, and she tasted it.

"It's good," she said, reaching for the water again. Snape drank after her, and the refreshing drink gave both of them hope: The cave was not entirely sinister towards them.

Lily took her wand back.

"Point me," she said, and the wand immediately pointed towards north.

Unfortunately, it did not help them much, as they had no idea whether the exit was to the north, south, east or west. After some discussion, they decided on one of the ascending passages, but after a while it branched again, and so did the next passage, and with each junction, they had less and less reason to hope that all their choices had been right. They had to turn back and find a new way several times because their chosen path had led them to a dead end. The cave was obviously a labyrinth, and some of the passages were rather difficult to climb. Neither of them was a caver. Lily's wand and magic often helped, but she was still unable to cast a Patronus.

Snape was walking ahead, testing each passage, but on particularly steep ones he climbed up then down again so that he could climb after Lily and catch her if she should fall. This idea proved to be a wise precaution when they were climbing an almost perpendicular wall with protruding stones serving as a natural ladder, and Lily stepped on the wrong stone, which slipped from under her foot.

She fell, but Snape jumped off the wall and caught her. The danger, however, was not over yet. The wall, which Snape had safely climbed a few minutes earlier, seemed to be falling on them. In reality, only a few large stones fell, but danger-wise it amounted to almost the same thing. Snape pulled Lily out of the way of the stones, stepping backwards on a narrow level of the cave. He slipped on the rough ground and before he knew it, he was rolling down a long, steep slope, which provided nothing to grab, nothing to hold on to.

He let go of Lily in the last moment, and then he could not see the wandlight any more, although he could still hear Lily scream and shout at a rapidly increasing distance from him, as he was descending into the darkness below. The slope ended suddenly and he fell on something soft, thick and flexible.

"Severus," he heard Lily's magically amplified voice from above. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he groaned, his voice echoing through the steep passageway.

"Can you come back?"

Snape began to feel around in the dark, wondering what he had fallen on, and he found that he was lying on the usual stony surface characterising the cave. The steep slope was the only connection between him and Lily, since in the darkness there was no way he could start to explore and risk another fall or getting lost.

"I don't know yet how -," he began, trying to raise his voice, but Lily cut him short.

"I'm going down then, stand back!"

"No, wait!" he shouted, but he could already hear the sound of rolling pebbles as the glimmering light of a wand became visible, and he saw Lily gracefully sliding down the slope and landing lightly in front of him.

Snape took the wand from her and rose to look around. The soft substance under his feet had disappeared, and he knew now that it was Lily who had managed to perform a Cushioning Charm so he could land safely, and he admired her presence of mind. He walked a few steps ahead, and his heart sank. They were in the chamber where the clear, pure water was dripping from the wall, in the chamber which they had started from hours before.

"Lily," he said, wishing he could keep the disheartening fact secret from her.

"I know," she nodded, staring into the distance, and after a long pause she added, "Do you think I will ever see them again?"

She looked terribly tired now, making no effort to stand up, and Snape would have given anything for a chance to help her. He knelt down by her side.

"We will start again," he said firmly, looking into the green eyes, which did not seem to see him. "You must rest a little... come, drink some water ... Then you will have more strength and we will climb again. We could have fallen into a much worse place than this ... Come."

He supported Lily as she went to the water and helped her drink. Then Lily sat down with her back against the wall of the chamber, leaned her head into her hands and soon was asleep. With her lighted wand in his hand, Snape sat down next to her, and gently moved her into a horizontal position, placed her head into his lap, then took off his cloak, and put it on her like a blanket.

"You will see them again," he murmured. "I swear."

He was suddenly deeply ashamed of the false hopes and foolish daydreams he had had during their flight. How could he misunderstand her so much? It was clear that she still wanted Potter and her family. Everything else on her part was friendship ... and love maybe, true love, even if not the kind that he had once hoped for. He envied Potter, of course; how could he not envy him? But what mattered now was that Lily had to get what she wanted, which meant that he had to figure out how they would get out of the cave.

For the time being, he could think of nothing else but trying the rising passages again ... and perhaps Lily could conjure a ball of yarn... Her sleep was long and deep; and he was watching over her, himself fighting sleepiness and exhaustion. He did not dare to doze off. Who could tell what - or who - might be in the cave hunting for prey? To keep himself occupied and awake, he picked up a pebble and examined it. It was different from the other stones in the cave. He could not tell what kind of stone it was, although he knew quite a few stones - all the ones, in fact, that had anything to do with potions or with Dark Magic. This stone had a strange blue colour and an unusual texture.

At last Lily stirred, shuddered a bit, pulled Snape's cloak closer to her face - and then she sat up, wide awake. She did not seem to know where she was at first. Then, as she realized in what circumstances and in what position she found herself, she looked embarrassed and edged away from him. Snape remained still.

"This is yours," she said finally, holding out his cloak.

"But you are cold," he said.

Both of them were cold, of course, and Snape could just barely keep his teeth from chattering aloud.

"Give me that wand," she said. "I should not have fallen asleep without doing this."

Within a second, fire was crackling in the middle of the cave chamber. Lily was warming her hands by it.

"Come here, Severus" she said, and Snape went to the fire, but he was careful not to sit too close to her.

He dropped the pebble and held his cold hands above the flames just as Lily was doing. The pebble hit the ground with surprising noise, and it rolled towards Lily, who picked it up.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Only a piece of stone," he said calmly. "I found it by the wall. It has an interesting colour."

"Very interesting ... and not only the colour," Lily said excitedly. She moved closer to him, sat down cross-legged by his side, and held out her palm with the blue stone in it. "Look at it again!"

Snape looked, but he could not even guess what she might mean.

"Severus ..." she said softly, "I think this is a Blue Stone, a ... Stone of Loss. You know... the tear of a water nymph. You are right, we must be under the forest pond, and ... you have found it. It's yours!"

He stared at the small stone.

"Ridiculous," he said gruffly. "This is a fairy tale... and I don't even have magic any more..."

"That's the reason!" Lily exclaimed. "Don't you understand? You sacrificed your magic - it is a great loss! If anyone, _you_ deserve the stone!"

Snape silently admitted to himself that losing his magic was not the only experience of loss he had recently undergone; but aloud he said something else.

"Even if we suppose that it is not a fairy tale - all right, perhaps it is not!" he added hastily, seeing Lily's offended expression, "how do you think someone without magic could find it?"

"You cannot be exactly like a Muggle," she said, thinking. "You are full of memories of magic - it is not the same as being without magic altogether - and you lost your magical power magically, after all."

"Indeed," he muttered crossly.

"There is a way to find it out," she continued. "If it is really a Stone of Loss, you can ask it to become whatever object you want it to be - as comfort or compensation."

Snape picked up the stone from her palm. He tried to imagine an object that could compensate him for the loss of his magic or for the fact that his love for Lily must stay forever unrequited, but he could not think of anything. He threw the pebble up into the air and caught it again.

"What are you doing?" Lily protested, but Snape vigorously jumped from where he was sitting.

"If you are not mistaken," he said, "we will get out! At least," he added, "if it does work for me despite ... you know."

He gaped at the small stone.

"Do I have to ask it?"

"Yes," she said. "Just ask."

She withdrew as though there was something indecent in being witness to such a moment¸ though Snape felt no particular need for privacy now.

"I want you to become a magical object," he said gravely to the small stone, "which can make me see through stones and walls and ... all materials."

At first, nothing happened. Then the stone started to revolve in his palm, slowly in the beginning, then faster and faster. When it stopped, it had the shape of an eye. He held it in front of his eyes, and the result almost knocked him off his legs. He could see through the walls around him with a keen sight, he could see incredibly small things and very distant ones, and the experience was stunning.

He looked up, and several levels above them, he could see the exit leading to the open air; and after getting used to his drastically improved sight and studying the cave for a while, he was able to determine which way they had to go.

He wheeled round towards Lily, but as his gaze fell on her through the blue stone, he urgently closed his eyes, and slipped the stone into his pocket. He quickly turned away, as he needed some time before he could safely look at her again, then he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Come, Lily, I think I can find a way out of here."

Climbing the passages was not easier than before, yet the certainty that they were going in the right direction, the knowledge that nothing malevolent was threatening them round the corners, that success now depended on persistence alone, and finally Lily's trust in Snape's lead gave them new strength, and in due course they reached the opening behind which they were greeted by the dark-blue night sky.


	13. Behind Her Eyes

Disclaimer: Everything in the HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 13**

_Behind Her Eyes_

"Where are we?" Lily asked.

Snape's eyes swept the scenery enwrapped in the starry, velvety darkness. He saw the dark light of water in front of them and the black shapes of trees behind the water. He turned around, and he found the same sight in every direction.

"We are on a rock in the middle of the forest pond," he answered.

The rock was maybe two hundred steps long and a hundred steps wide. They still had to get across the pond before they could go anywhere, but at the moment, their minds were filled with the triumph of being out of the cave at last.

"Well done, Severus," Lily whispered to him. "I would not have got out without you."

"And I would not have got this far without _you_," he replied, but he unconsciously straightened his back and raised his head as soon as he heard Lily's compliment.

"I hope the others are safe," she said. "Are you sure that they were not in the cave?"

"I'm sure," he said. "I would have seen them with the Blue Stone. We were alone there."

She sighed with relief.

"Maybe it was just a magical accident ... this place has its own magic, we have known that before."

She looked at Snape observantly.

"Perhaps you were _meant_ to find the Blue Stone, and that is why some magic brought you here..."

"Don't blame this magical accident on me," said Snape with dry self-irony. "What magic would want to trap me just to make me find an object that can get me out of the trap?"

Lily walked to the edge of the rock, and held out her wand.

"It won't be easy to go away," she announced. "There is magic around us."

She seemed to be touching an invisible wall. She was murmuring spells, when abruptly she exclaimed.

"Someone is coming... Look!"

Now Snape, too, noticed the broomstick above them. The rider waved to them, and without attempting to land, he reached into his pocket, took out something, threw it into the water; then he turned his broomstick towards the shore of the pond.

Snape found the Blue Stone in his pocket.

"It is all right," he said. "It is Lupin."

Out of the water, a rope bridge emerged and tied itself firmly to the rock island and to the shore where Lupin was signalling them to go. The invisible wall vanished as they carefully stepped on the rope bridge, which swayed with every move, but soon enough and safely, they reached the shore.

"Remus!" said Lily. "Is everyone well? What is this place? Interesting magic, by the way ..."

"The credit for the bridge is Dumbledore's alone," Lupin answered. "I only followed his instructions. I don't know how he guessed that you were here. But I must ask you to prove that you are who you appear to be."

"I am Lily Potter," she began, "wife to James Potter, my Patronus is a doe; I have a son-"

"Any pets?"

"A cat, named Ophelia. I used to have a toad, Jonathan. I swear that this man is Severus."

"Fine," said Lupin. "I am Remus John Lupin, aka Moony, a werewolf and a former Hogwarts prefect-"

"We believe you, Remus," said Lily.

"Why weren't you travelling with the others?" Lupin asked. "Why did you use an auxiliary wand when you entered the island? Dumbledore told us that we must not use them any more!"

Lily and Snape glanced at each other. Snape was sure that it was the first time that this piece of information had reached him, but Lily gasped.

"Of course! I forgot! Dumbledore said the Death Eaters had obtained an auxiliary wand, therefore the island would be accessible only with a password now!"

"But we did enter the island," said Snape.

"Yes, we did!" Lily said. "Although not exactly the way we wanted."

They began walking on a forest path, Lupin leading them.

"Dumbledore put a jinx on the auxiliary wands," Lupin explained, "so that they carry anyone who uses them into a magical trap in the middle of this pond."

"_Under_ this pond," said Lily sharply. "We were trapped in a cave. We got out, thanks to Severus, but it took hours!"

"Why didn't you send a message?" Lupin demanded. "Can you imagine how worried we all were when we found out that you were missing? We got back from Azkaban less then an hour ago, and until then we had thought you were with the healers, and they had thought you were with us!"

"Someone could have checked that cave..." Snape growled.

"We thought you knew the password!" Lupin said. "I did not even know about this trap until now. You might have sent us word!"

"We wanted," Lily explained, "but I was not able to cast a Patronus."

Lupin frowned.

"Neither of you managed to cast a Patronus?" he asked incredulously.

"My wand got broken," said Snape quickly.

"What is James doing?" Lily asked suddenly. "Why didn't _he _come to us?"

Lupin gulped.

"Well, there is no real reason to worry... He had an accident, but he will be fine. The healers had to mend a few bones and he must rest, that is all."

"Why haven't you told me that before?" Lily cried. "We must hurry to him at once!"

"He was quite impatient to see you," Lupin replied. "At first we did not tell him that you were missing because he already seemed to be in a bad shape, but of course, he noticed ... I think they gave him a Sleeping Potion."

Lily was practically running now.

"I can take you to him in a minute on this broomstick," said Lupin, trying to catch up with her. "I forgot to bring an extra one, but I will come back for Severus."

"Yes, let's go," she said.

"I can find my way alone," said Snape. "I don't need you to come back."

"Follow this path," Lupin said, mounting his broomstick. "The new campsite is not far from the old one, but it is in the area where the forest was not burned down."

The broomstick rose into the air, navigating among the trees with some difficulty, but it switched into full speed as soon as it reached above the treetops.

So Lily was flying to Potter, while Snape was walking down a dark path alone. In other words, things had gone back to normal; or at least that was the consequence Snape drew. Did it hurt? Of course, it did, but the pain was not more than what he was used to.

Otherwise he did not mind the solitary walk in the forest. He was not afraid of losing his way. He knew the island well enough, and he knew where he was going. He was not afraid of the forest either. No werewolves had to be expected tonight; and he did not even have to go past his own magical traps. He might encounter a few Ashwinders perhaps, but - unlike poor Mary Macdonald (he could vividly recall the image of the girl surrounded by fire and snakes) - he knew how to deal with them. Even without magic.

He heard a noise, and the light of a wand fell on his face.

"Who are you?" said a voice, as a man emerged from among the trees.

The wand in the stranger's hand illuminated his own face as well. He had a high forehead, a receding hairline and placid blue eyes. He was older than Snape, and he was wearing auror's robes.

"Severus Snape."

"You must prove your identity," the man said.

"What proof do you want?" he asked.

"When did you last get a box of Ice Mice from Professor Dumbledore as a present?"

The corner of Snape's mouth twisted into an involuntary half-smile. The question could only be Dumbledore's idea.

"Never. I don't like Ice Mice, as Dumbledore knows very well."

The auror grinned broadly.

"Welcome to the Order's new campsite! Remus told me that you were on your way here."

He held out his hand.

"Frank Longbottom."

Snape mechanically shook the auror's hand, as the name kept echoing in his head.

"Follow me. I will lead you to your tent," said Frank Longbottom. "I am on patrol tonight."

The new camp was much larger than the old one had been. Ministry tents of various sizes were standing everywhere in the light of guard fires; other tents carried the logo of St Mungo's. Snape knew that Lily must be in one of those tents, with Potter. The auror led him to the far edge of the camp.

"This is what we found for you," he said. "It is a small tent, but you will be alone in it."

He entered the tent before Snape, and lit a candle with his wand. Snape followed him and saw that the tent, despite its size, was just as comfortable as the one he had earlier shared with Moody. The bed seemed especially inviting.

"I can show you the camp kitchen if you want," said Frank Longbottom. "But there is an easier way..."

He directed his wand out of the tent.

"Accio tray!" he shouted.

Soon a tray filled with food from sausages to cheese to a collection of salads flew into the tent, accompanied by a teapot.

"Our house elves always keep some cold food and some hot tea ready for emergency situations," smiled the auror. "I must go now."

He was at the entrance of the tent, when Snape found his voice again.

"Wait a minute!" Snape burst out, striding towards the man. "Should not you be in hiding somewhere very far away from here?"

Frank Longbottom turned back and watched Snape closely for a while.

"I'm an auror," he said slowly. "My life has always been in danger. This is my job; I knew that at the start. It is someone else who must be protected, and he is getting the best protection available. I am fighting for him, too."

"But..." Snape said, puzzled by the man's cool-headedness, "it is not a good idea to introduce yourself to strangers. You don't want to be traced by the Dark Lord so easily."

"You don't seem like a traitor or a spy to me," said Frank Longbottom calmly and hurried away.

Not a traitor... It was easy to recall how the Dark Lord had whipped just that word into his face, and how he had been suspected of being a traitor or a spy quite recently by Moody. The Longbottoms had to hide because of his ill-advised attempt to spy on Dumbledore. And yet, Frank Longbottom did not think he _seemed_ like a traitor or a spy.

* * * * *

He woke up late in the following morning and in the same position in which he had fallen asleep in the middle of the night. Not much later, he stepped out of the tent with the nebulous perception that he had an unpleasant task to perform, which he was not quite ready to begin yet.

The last of his sleepiness was gone when he saw Lily coming towards his tent, waving to him from afar. He had not anticipated seeing her again so soon.

"Severus, may I come in?"

"Certainly. That is ... I did not expect a visitor," he mumbled, wishing he had not left the camp bed as he had got out of it, that he had cleared away the leftovers of last nights' dinner.

She entered, and he offered her a seat so that the untidy bed was behind her back.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone last night in the forest," Lily began. "I panicked when I heard that James was injured."

"He must be better today," said Snape.

It was a statement, not a question. Lily would not be visiting him if Potter was seriously ill.

"The healers did a good job," she answered. "He has to rest yet, but my presence is not indispensable."

"So?"

"So, I have come to say goodbye," Lily said. "I'm going home."

"Without Potter?" Snape asked with growing suspicion.

"Harry needs me. I can't wait to see him any longer. I'm going to pick him up and take him home. Dumbledore says he can spare me though he will need some Order members to stay here until all the injured and the healers can leave. James can stay or follow us tomorrow. The healers say so many of his bones were broken that he must not travel yet. He may also get over certain things better if I am not within sight for a few hours, though he will not admit it."

Snape had so many questions that he did not know at once how to start asking them. What had happened to Potter? Had Lily and Potter had a row? A thought struck him: If Lily still wanted to keep her promise and his secret, she was unable to give an acceptable explanation for travelling with him instead of joining the healers.

"What does he have to get over?"

Snape seriously hoped that he would not end up being the one to explain to Potter what an idiot he was if he ever doubted Lily's love for him. Saving Potter's life was one thing. Accepting that Lily loved Potter and belonged to Potter might be possible in some distant future. Still, even he had to draw the line somewhere. He could not imagine himself tenderly healing the wounds of Potter's delicate soul.

Lily shrugged.

"It is more a question of pride than a serious problem."

Snape took a deep breath.

"I don't know if it is any good, and Potter may just hex me into pieces, but if you want me to talk to him and explain-"

Lily raised an eyebrow.

"Explain? There is nothing to explain. He does not mind the wounds, but his vanity suffered a real blow. He will get over it. Actually he was lucky, because he could have sustained much worse injuries than those broken bones."

Snape's eyes opened wide.

"I still don't know what kind of accident he had."

Lily chuckled.

"Remus was very careful not to mention it last night. You know James had never in his life ... well ... fallen off a broomstick before."

Snape stared at her for several seconds.

"Are you saying that he was upset about _this_ while no one knew where you were last night?"

"Oh, no, no," Lily shook her head. "Not last night. But this morning when I was safely by his side again..."

She smiled.

"It is all right. Really. James can be rather vain sometimes, but no one is perfect."

"No one is perfect," Snape repeated.

He walked around in the tent.

"When are you leaving?"

"At noon. I have already sent a message to Professor McGonagall and received her reply. She is expecting me at lunchtime."

"Professor McGonagall? Are you meeting _her_?"

"Didn't I tell you yet?" Lily said a little surprised. "Harry is at Hogwarts. Dumbledore said he would be safer there while we were here. Professor McGonagall is looking after him. Not alone, of course... She has to teach and she is the Deputy Head. Madam Pomfrey and others are helping her. But I don't want Harry to forget what his mother looks like."

"Are you travelling alone?"

"I'm going to Apparate directly to Hogsmeade. Anyway," she said, "I wanted to ask you, Severus, about your plans. You can't keep your secret for long. Have you decided to see a healer? Have you thought about asking anyone's help? Perhaps you can be cured, and if not ... you are entitled to some help, I think. What you did was absolutely heroic and noble. The wizarding world owes you a lot."

"Even more than the Blue Stone?" he asked mockingly, mainly to hide that he was touched by her concern.

"I wish I could help you," said Lily softly. "I know that the person who finds the Stone of Loss, the tear of a water nymph, is meant to find a means of comfort in it, but you had to sacrifice this chance to save our lives."

"It was a sensible way to use it," said Snape, irritated now, though he would not have been able to explain why. "I don't care how it _should_ have been used! A water nymph's tear, indeed! A whole water nymph would not be much comfort - I mean compensation," he finished, now at least knowing that his increased irritation was due to his stupid slip of the tongue.

Why on Earth had he let _that_ _word_ escape his lips?

He was pacing up and down in the tent. The necessity of facing a future in the changed circumstances fell on him with its whole weight at last.

Suddenly she was standing in front of him, very close, blocking his way, her eyes shining with a light that Snape had never seen, her fingertips slowly gliding down his face. Snape did not know how it had happened, but a moment later his hands were around her waist again and he could feel a disturbing and bewitching power taking over in his veins, as he kissed her...

No kiss could last forever. Much sooner than he would have wanted, he had to let go of her but only to be struck by the magnitude of what he had just committed. Lily's lips quivered.

He took a step backwards, away from her. For a second, he was going to apologize, but he remembered that Lily did not care for apologies. Not when she was truly insulted.

Then again, if he could not apologize, what else was there to say to her?

"It w-won't happen again," he stammered. "I promise. Never."

Like pebbles falling into a deep well, his words seemed to be swallowed by the enormity of the offence.

"Severus," Lily said gently, "it is ...all right. I am not offended."

She stepped towards him.

"I understand," she continued, "I mean ... just for this once ... it is ... all right."

The words were incredible enough, but it was even more unbelievable that she was standing again just as close to him as before, gazing at him in the same way as before, until it began to dawn on Snape that their kiss might not have been his fault alone.

_Just for this once_ ... It would have been a clear message if she had walked _away_ from him; but she was close, too close, and Snape was confused because Lily's gestures appeared to be saying that "this once" might be extended to more than one kiss perhaps. Yet, Lily could not mean that, and he could not afford to make a mistake...

Her eyes were still burning with that mysterious light; and Snape instinctively looked for explanation in them. And all of a sudden he was there, entering her mind, diving deep into her emotions, penetrating maybe into her soul. No spell was needed, verbal or non-verbal (Snape would never have dared to use that spell on Lily anyway); and yet, he understood her. He understood her motivations, her feelings about him; he miraculously understood even her love for James Potter. The insight that he gained was a thousand times sharper and a thousand times more sincere and cruel than what the Blue Stoned had given him, but the light in Lily's eyes was already reflected in his own...

"Just for this once?" he asked her in the steadiest voice that he managed to muster.

"Just for this once," she whispered firmly, almost defiantly, and he saw the colour rise in her cheeks...

"To comfort me?" he breathed, torn between the longing and the mortification of someone tormented by hunger and humiliated by charity.

Lily closed her eyes, and gave a long, deep sigh. Her hair seemed like tongues of flame around her face...

"Because we are ... friends?"

Her lips opened but she did not answer. Blood was throbbing in his ears to an irresistible rhythm...

She did give him an answer in the end, when she withdrew from him finally.

"You would deserve some real ... comfort," she said quietly, turning away. "You are and you will always be my best friend. I want you to know that."

Snape's empty hands twitched. He had already accepted that friendship was the most that she could give him. Now he would have to learn to accept it once again.

"It is not easy to be your friend," he said, knowing, for the first time in his life, that he could safely tell her. "But I'm trying hard ... I would hate myself if I failed."

"You did what only a true friend could do when you risked your life to save James for me."

Snape sighed. He was sure that he had not thought of it back then. That saving Potter's life would mean so much more in Lily's eyes than saving her own life. _Now_, he was not surprised. But there was one more thing that he wanted to tell her, because he knew at last that it was safe as well.

"I'm sorry that I -" he began, but he stopped abruptly. "I should not have said that."

Lily looked perplexed and he started anew.

"I deeply regret-"

He caught her glance. There was only one way to do this. He wanted to be truthful and precise as though his life depended on it.

"No. I am thoroughly ashamed that there was a time when I could not be your friend."

It was like putting down a heavy burden that he had been unsuspectingly carrying on his back for years. He was feeling unusually light and free.

Lily's eyes were suddenly downcast.

"Recently I have often wondered whether things could have turned out differently for you if I ... if I had listened to you, if I had given you another chance when you asked me. For years, I was sure that I had given you a fair enough chance; that on that day, there was only one thing I could do. Today, I am not sure any more. I wish I had been a little more ... forgiving."

She looked into his eyes now, and Snape knew that her regret was sincere. He did not know what to answer. Confessing that he had also wondered the same seemed cruel towards her, but even a white lie - for example, that he was _certain_ it would not have changed anything - _was_ a lie, which would have corrupted the conversation.

There was a long silence, broken finally by Snape.

"Dumbledore has a mirror ... a magical mirror. It shows everyone their deepest desire. It may be something that can be fulfilled one day. Some see what they had in the past but not any more. If you are truly happy ... I don't know if it is possible to desire what one already has. But the mirror can also show what has never been and will never be."

"Did you see that mirror?" asked Lily.

Snape understood the real question behind her words.

"I came across it ... by chance," he answered vaguely. "Let's put it that way. And yes, I looked into it."

"And? What happened?"

"I looked and looked ... and looked," he said, this time ignoring her real question. "But nothing _happened_. Well, except that Dumbledore found me out."

"Was he angry with you?"

"Dumbledore? No. I was angry with him."

She smiled.

"Why?"

"He made sure I did not see the mirror again. I was angry for weeks because I missed it."

"Don't you think," she said, "that he simply did not want you to waste too much time watching a mere dream? It can never be the same as experiencing something real."

"No, it is not," Snape muttered. "I understood that, too. But do you know what I think now?"

"What?"

"If Dumbledore thinks that the mirror is a harmful or useless object, why does he keep it? It belongs to him, but why does he need it at all?"

"He alone could tell that."

"He would not tell me," said Snape.


	14. The Cage

Disclaimer: The characters and the HP world belong to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 14**

_The __Cage_

"As I was saying," Lily began again after a long pause, "you must get some official support -"

"I don't know…" Snape said, strangely bemused, "I may not need it."

"Of course you need it!"

"I don't know how to explain...it sounds unlikely, but I am beginning to think that … I still may have some magical power after all."

The explanation was indeed difficult. Should he tell Lily how he had entered her mind, seen her thoughts and emotions? It had not been the usual Legilimency, the circumstances had been very special, and he probably would not have entered anyone else's mind but Lily's in this way; still he was sure that it would have been impossible without magic. It had been accidental, like the magical activities of children, but would Lily believe that he had not intended it?

"Back on the prison island," he said slowly, "I tested my magic and I did not seem to have any, but now ... it feels different. I'm not sure though."

"Why don't you try then?" said Lily with a gasp.

"I don't have a working wand at the moment..."

"Here is mine, try this one."

Snape was twiddling with her wand. The idea that he still might possess some magic was too wonderful to so hastily risk it with an experiment that could easily be unsuccessful. What he had just experienced could be the exception, not the rule. Perhaps he had retained some magical ability while most of his magic was lost. Did he want Lily to see him try and fail?

Lily, however, was excited now.

"There is nothing to lose by trying," she said encouragingly. "Say a spell ... Cast a Patronus, for instance!"

"A ... Patronus?" he croaked.

"Why not? I don't even know what your Patronus is."

A suspicion was creeping up on Snape. Was it possible? Had Dumbledore been ... gossiping?

"Have you heard any rumours?" he asked sharply.

Lily blushed.

"Yes, some people say it is a ... a bat. Is it true?"

She looked mischievously into his face, but her expression quickly changed.

"I did not mean... I did not want to offend you... Severus, it was a joke!"

"You can tell them," said Snape coolly, "that they are wrong, because it is not a bat. It is a ... snake. An adder. I'm a Slytherin."

In thought, he apologized to Vil for the horrid lie, as he waited to see Lily's reaction.

She seemed a bit revolted at first, but soon a reproachful smile appeared on her face, and Snape could not fully conceal a telltale smirk.

"I almost believed it!"

Snape hesitated. If Lily already knew the secret of his Patronus, it was all the same... And yet, he was unsure.

"What is Potter's Patronus?" he asked.

He regretted the question at once. Why had he dragged Potter into their conversation again?

"That's no secret," replied Lily. "It is the same as his Animagus form, a stag."

He really could have guessed _that_. Lily's Patronus was a doe, and Potter's - a stag. How perfect. On bitter impulse, he directed Lily's wand at the empty fireplace of the tent.

"Incendio!"

The small fireplace seemed to explode with the force of the fire ignited in it. Hundreds of sparks shot into the tent, falling onto the floor, the chair, the still undone bed...

"What are you doing?" Lily shouted, as flames were rapidly sprouting from the sparks all around them.

"Aguamenti!" Snape roared, and the tent was instantly flooded with water.

"Merlin's pants, can't you keep it under control?"

The fire was extinguished, but the water level was rising speedily. Snape shouted yet another spell, and the tent became dry again.

"Is it over?" Lily moaned hoarsely, looking around.

The inside of the tent was a sorry sight, but Snape was beaming.

"Why, this was magic!"

"Magic indeed," said Lily. "I nearly passed out."

She laughed as he waved the wand around, producing large, colourful soap bubbles, which reminded her of summer days spent in an old playground. Another series of wand movements; and the interior of the tent did not resemble a battlefield any more. Snape turned serious again.

"I don't understand how it is possible."

"Perhaps the Ultimate Protection did not work well," she suggested. "Perhaps he made a mistake."

"The Dark Lord has outstanding magical skills," said Snape. "He does not make technical mistakes."

Even as he was saying that, he remembered how the Dark Lord _had_ made an elementary mistake once, and how it had saved his life. But it was difficult to believe that the same could happen for a second time.

Then a worrisome thought came to his mind.

"Do you think it will last?" he asked. "I could not do magic yesterday, I can do it today, but what will be tomorrow?"

"Magic every second day is better than no magic at all," she said playfully. "You have good reason to be optimistic!"

He watched her silently for several seconds, wishing she was right. Lily's face gradually became serious, too.

"I have stayed too long," she said. "I must go and get my things ready for the journey. My wand, please … thanks."

She looked back at him from the entrance.

"You are a powerful wizard, Severus," she said.

Then she was gone, and he had not even managed to say goodbye to her.

He was beset by even more doubts as he was left alone. He wanted to try his magic again and in different ways. What if his renewed power was tied to a certain circumstance? What if some other, even more dangerous magic was in operation, and he was yet to pay a price he had no idea about? He was used to understanding the magic around and inside him, and a power that he could not understand did not seem to be reliably, rightfully his own.

He wanted answers, and he knew about one wizard only whose knowledge and experience he trusted.

It took him quite a while to find Dumbledore's tent, but he met the old wizard just outside the entrance.

"Come in, Severus," Dumbledore said with a gesture of invitation.

He entered. Unlike other tents that he had seen, Dumbledore's tent resembled most of all an office. It was dominated by a desk with two chairs opposite each other just like the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. They both sat down, and Dumbledore looked expectantly at Snape.

"I'm listening," he said gravely.

Snape shifted uneasily on the chair. The piercing gaze made him feel at fault, and he realized that Dumbledore was expecting an explanation from him at least as much as vice versa. He had taken it for granted that Lily had already clarified the circumstances of their disappearance to Dumbledore. Now he was reminded that Lily's version of the story must have contained major holes regarding what the professor was probably most interested in: the reason why they had followed their own plan instead of staying with the rest of the group.

"Lily wanted to help me," he said quietly. "I asked her not to tell anyone."

"Lily alluded to some crucial, secret help that you had required," said Dumbledore. "I confess I was hoping that you would share some more details with me."

Dumbledore leaned forward and put two fingers on his chin. He did not once interrupt Snape while he was telling him about the Ultimate Protection, his decision to open the door, and what happened afterwards. He paused when he had recounted the finding of the Blue Stone and their escape from the cave, but Dumbledore did not change his position as though he knew that the story was not over yet.

"What do you think about the Ultimate Protection?" Snape asked. "What do you think about a wizard losing his magical power?"

"Magic is an innate talent," said Dumbledore. "It cannot be learned, purchased or given. As for whether it is possible to lose it, I would say both yes and no. The spell that Voldemort applied must have been aimed at blocking a wizard's ability to use his magical talent. That is possible, although it requires an extremely powerful dark spell and very specific conditions. Since we are talking about a very powerful dark wizard, it is not surprising that the Ultimate Protection was promptly set in motion, even though it ultimately did not protect its master's secret very successfully."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Do you mean that the loss does not have to be permanent"? Snape asked eagerly. "If it is only blocking … then it may be reversible, is that so?"

"Eventually," said Dumbledore earnestly, "I suppose it may be reversed, although I don't think any single spell could do it. A difficult and long healing process should be expected and no results can be granted in advance. In the meantime…"

Dumbledore's voice trailed away, and his gaze seemed to be fixed somewhere far away behind Snape.

"In the meantime?" Snape asked slightly impatiently.

Dumbledore sighed.

"A dark spell is not the only reason why someone's magical talent can be inhibited. It may also be the result of a severe trauma, for example. But the blocked or suppressed magic is existing magic nevertheless, and … it is difficult to foretell what it can do under the surface."

Snape had never seen Dumbledore being so uncomfortable talking about anything.

"For example, the magic may erupt unexpectedly, uncontrollably and very dangerously. Or it may remain latent and cause pain… It may slowly destroy the wizard from inside over the years."

Dumbledore suddenly seemed very old and tired.

"Of course, healers know much more about the treatment of such maladies than they did a hundred years ago. My information may not be up-to-date."

But Snape was much more interested in what was happening to him at the moment than what might happen in the years to come or what had been a hundred years before.

"Could the lost magic," he began cautiously, "return unexpectedly?"

"You mean in a controlled way?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well," Snape was pondering the answer for a while, "at least in a more or less controllable way."

"Is that what you experienced?"

Snape was watching Dumbledore closely, but he could see no trace of surprise on the old face.

"How do you know?"

"I guessed," said Dumbledore.

"Well, I borrowed a wand this morning and it worked for me."

"Did you just happen to borrow a wand?"

"No," he confessed. "First I experienced unintentional wandless magic. It came like the magic of pre-Hogwarts children, though its effect was not like child magic."

"Do you want to tell me what it was exactly?"

"No," said Snape.

"All right" said Dumbledore. "You experienced emotional wandless magic in a more … adult way. What happened after that?"

"I borrowed Lily's wand and -"

Experimenting with Occlumency seemed a little premature yet, so Snape could only wish Dumbledore would stop x-raying him with his eyes. Pronouncing Lily's name right after the professor mentioned the term _emotional magic_ was in itself a potential give-away.

"- I tried various spells and they were all successful. However-"

"Yes?"

"They were too strong; they had an almost explosive force, especially in the beginning."

"I see."

Dumbledore leaned back, and was staring at his desk for a long time. Snape knew that the old man was going to say more, he only had to wait until Dumbledore was ready.

"That certainly explains a few things," said Dumbledore at last.

He looked at Snape again.

"Regarding the job opportunity that I mentioned yesterday," he said quietly, "I did not receive your reply."

"I had no hope of being able to accept it," said Snape. "I wanted to tell you – privately.

"Was that the only reason why you were silent?"

"The only reason," Snape replied.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and stood beside Snape.

"What you have told me today answers a question that I was not able to answer myself. But I suppose it is _your_ question that you want to be answered in the first place."

"I want to know how my magic returned," said Snape. "I want to know if I can count on it in future."

"Have you got your wand with you?"

Snape reached into his pocket and put the broken wand on the desk. Dumbledore examined it carefully, tracing his own wand over it.

"Well, it is in urgent need of repair," he murmured.

Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Not even Ollivander can mend wands like this."

A strange, delicate smile flickered across Dumbledore's face. He directed his own wand at the broken wand, and the two halves were instantly united. Dumbledore handed the wand back to Snape, who grabbed it, feeling that peculiar sort of warmth that only a real, functioning wand, one's own wand could produce. He even felt a light tremble run through the wand and into his fingers, as a few sparks shot out of the tip.

"There is no need to mention this to Mr Ollivander," said Dumbledore lightly. "Let's see your questions now. To the first one, my answer – my guess - is that your magic probably did not _return_. Regarding the second question, Severus, my humble opinion is that you can almost certainly count on your magic in future."

"I don't understand," he said.

"It is simple," Dumbledore said, sitting down again. "You have your full magical power, but it did not return to you. It could not return because you never lost it."

Snape stared at the old man.

"But I told you … the Ultimate Protection … My wand broke when the door opened and I could not do magic when I tried. I … I found the Stone of Loss. At least Lily says so," he added a little embarrassed.

"You see how an answer to a simple question can generate more and more questions? I realize that every day."

Dumbledore sat thinking for a few seconds before continuing.

"I am not saying that the Ultimate Protection did not affect you," he explained. "The Dark Mark on your arm was burning painfully. The defensive magic sensed the intrusion and began to operate exactly as it had to - so your wand broke."

Dumbledore stroked his beard.

"The magic could not have identified the wand that was in alliance with you without hitting you first. It also had to recognize the unauthorized intruder. Since the magic was powerful and destructive, no wonder that it shook you. While I don't think that it truly and permanently blocked your talent, you certainly were not well enough to do magic immediately afterwards, especially not with a recently acquired wand … or with a half-functioning broomstick. It was an invisible but grave injury after all."

"But-"

"Were you very eager to try your magic then?"

"No," Snape admitted. "I was feeling weary and … after trying once, I did not want to try again. I was sure that it was all over."

"It was instinct that told you what was best," said Dumbledore. "Refraining from doing magic for a while and resting, of course, are essential after such an attack. I know you had no time to rest, but at least you did not overexert your magic."

"And the Stone?"

"To find the Stone of Loss, you have to experience a great loss," Dumbledore replied. "As far as I can tell, that is exactly what happened to you – but you must know more about it than I do."

Dumbledore paused.

"It was a very noble – and very real - sacrifice, by the way," he continued. "You could not anticipate such a lucky outcome. It was mere chance, Severus, sheer, blind luck that prevented the Ultimate Protection from taking _everything_ that you offered."

"You have just said the Ultimate Protection worked as it had to."

"True," said Dumbledore. "The reason why your magic remained – essentially – intact must be that someone else – another wizard with a Dark Mark - entered before you and paid the greater part of the price."

"The door was closed," said Snape. "Lily tried to open it before I did. There was no one else in the building with a Dark Mark."

"Oh, yes, there was. I am absolutely certain about that. You may not have noticed him, but others did. The door closed back again after he entered because the price was not yet fully paid. The Death Eater in question did not possess a wand as he opened the door. You yourself said that the price of the Ultimate Protection was the magical power and the wand of a Death Eater. The prisoners would not have been rescued without your sacrifice, Severus, because the Ultimate Protection insisted on taking _both_ magic and wand. I suppose the two sacrifices had to happen fairly close to each other. I doubt that the door would have remembered a half-paid price for long."

Snape gaped at Dumbledore. The idea of such a narrow escape was astounding, but he was positively frightened by Dumbledore's knowledge of it. How could Dumbledore possibly know or even guess those things?

"Is it a theory," he asked, "or do you really know all that?"

"It is a theory, Severus," said Dumbledore, "supported by some very sound evidence. You have earned the right to be acquainted with that evidence and to find out who succeeded in sacrificing his magic, thus saving yours. Although," he added with another twinkle of his blue eyes, "_that_ sacrifice can by no means be compared to yours."

Snape buried his face into his hands for a moment. It was still too unbelievable, impossible.

"If you want to hear the rest of the story, you must listen to those who can tell you everything first-hand. And that reminds me … I want to meet you all in about an hour in the largest hospital tent. For now, I must ask your patience. I have some urgent letters to answer."

On his way back to his tent, Snape was stopped by an auror who needed his assistance. It turned out that some Death Eaters were still trapped in the magical traps in the forest, and no one was able to free them. So Snape spent most of the following hour trying to open the traps, in which, as he discovered, three prison guards and two real Death Eaters had been caught. The latter were his former Slytherin housemates, Avery and Mulciber. All five captives seemed to have been very badly affected by the day that they had spent in the traps, but that did not stop the two Death Eaters from shooting hateful glances at him all the time and occasionally hissing the word _traitor_.

Snape did not mind the glances or the hissing, and his hard work yielded results at last: The traps were removed, and the captives were taken into heavily guarded hospital tents while Snape was heading towards the one where he was to see Dumbledore again.

The largest hospital tent was large enough for a meeting, but at the moment there were only two patients in it: One of them was Potter, who seemed to be his usual active and noisy self, as he was playing Exploding Snap in his red and gold striped silk pyjamas with his friends Moony and Padfoot.

The other occupant of the tent was clearly much more ill, and it took Snape a few moments to register that he was looking at Alastor Moody. The auror's body was practically wrapped in bandage, even one of his eyes was covered by it. It was evident that his face had received a few new scars as well. He was lying silently, his wooden leg propped against a small table, but he turned his head towards the entrance when Snape arrived.

Since Snape had certain misgivings about going too close to Potter just then, he took a step towards the wounded auror, who looked up at him with his one eye. He opened his mouth as though trying to speak, but there was movement at the entrance again, and Dumbledore entered in the company of Mary Macdonald.

She must have come from another hospital tent, since she was wearing a white dressing gown over a nightdress, and Dumbledore was leading her by the arm. She sat down without looking at anyone, next to Dumbledore. She was still very pale, but her appearance was neat and tidy. She stayed close to Dumbledore as though she was in need of protection and would not feel safe without the old wizard. Some of the gestures that betrayed her insecurity were embarrassingly familiar to Snape.

Dumbledore was carrying a large box that was completely covered with a black piece of cloth. He placed it on the floor; then waved his wand towards the entrance and around them all.

"I would like to thank you all for your courage and persistence," he began. "The mission has been fulfilled. Voldemort's prison does not exist any more, and those who were held captive there have been rescued. Now it is time to discuss certain events so we all can understand what happened and draw the inevitable consequences. We also have to discuss a few remaining tasks and duties."

He waved his wand, causing the box to rise from the floor and glide into the centre of the tent. The textile slipped off, revealing a cage, in which a fat rat had apparently been sleeping, but was woken up by the sudden light. The cage was equipped with some rat food and some water. Frightened perhaps, the animal began running around.

Black let out a sound resembling the low, menacing growl of an angry dog.

Snape's interest in rats was strictly restricted to the parts that could be utilized as potion ingredients; therefore he was rather struck by Dumbledore's question to him.

"Can you, Severus, guess why this animal is a unique representative of the species?"

The rat stopped running. Its watery eyes were surveying the humans behind the bars with distrust.

"It seems to be an ordinary rat," Snape answered.

"A thorough examination," Dumbledore explained, "has revealed that this rat is in its early twenties."

He cast a grim glance at the animal.

"On the basis of what you have told me," said Dumbledore addressing the group at large, "I must conclude that this rat was a wizard who played an important albeit very sad part in the events of the last couple of days."

"Why doesn't he change back into a wizard?" Potter asked, staring at the rat.

"I'm afraid it can't," said Dumbledore. "This rat has no magic at all. Not even I can transform it back into the wizard it used to be. I could transfigure it, naturally, but the animal-to-human _reverse_ transformation does not work on it any better than it would work on a piece of parchment. It has traces of past magic, however, and I have the impression that several of you recognize it beyond a doubt. This rat is-"

"Peter Pettigrew," said four voices at the same time.

Potter, Black and Lupin gaped at Mary.

"Did _you_ know?"

Mary nodded.

"I saw him change into a rat and back again. I know that he was You-Know-Who's spy, a traitor among you. He hurried to inform him about your whereabouts and plans on the day when you first came to this island."

"Wait a minute," said Snape. "Pettigrew went to _him_ on the first day? I thought no one was able to leave or enter the island without one of the auxiliary wands, which were guarded by Moody!"

There was a sudden roar.

"I know!" Black was hitting his own forehead with his fist. "I know how he did it! We – Prongs, Moony and I - knew that he could do it!"

He groaned.

"The protection around the island did not extend to animals. Stopping their natural migration would cause a lot of trouble. It is unlikely that Voldemort could send an army of Animagi against us anyway. Still, a wizard transformed into an animal could easily get through our defences. I myself did it, too."

A distinct snort came from the direction of Moody's bed.

"I… I did not go anywhere," Black stammered. "I changed into a dog, Prongs into a stag and Wormtail into a rat, and we played. I merely ran into the sea to swim and to bring back a stick that Remus had thrown into the water. Later we noticed that Wormtail had disappeared. When we found him, he was - asleep. I cannot tell how long he had been missing."

"Just for the record," Dumbledore interrupted, glancing towards Moody, "our young Animagi intend to take the first opportunity to have their new skills registered at the Ministry."

Black seemed flabbergasted, Potter uneasy; but Dumbledore was now watching them with the piercing look that Snape knew so well. He was quite interested to see the two Animagi and even Lupin assume the same guilty expression.

"I reckon we do," Potter muttered, but Black made a last attempt to save a lost cause.

"But it may be a useful skill when it comes to fighting Death Eaters," he argued. "It would be a waste to let everyone know about it!"

"Good thought," agreed Dumbledore. "However, the law knows no exceptions. Instead, it is possible to apply for secret Animagus status. In this case, your skill will be known by the Ministry but will not be included in any public documents. This status is not usually granted for the asking; therefore you will have to provide a convincing reason as well as credible proof of your trustworthiness."

The friends exchanged a quick look. Then Lupin cleared his throat.

"Mary, it is not clear how _you_ knew what Peter was."

The girl looked at Dumbledore, who gave a little nod, and she began:

"I will tell you how and why I came to this island, but I must start the story earlier, at the beginning. It started when _he_ - You-Know-Who – decided that he needed a spy at Hogwarts, close to Professor Dumbledore, and he thought that the best person to do this job would be," her voice trembled a little, "the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."


	15. Shapeshifting and Change of Heart

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling. Thanks to her for sharing it with us.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 15**

_Shape-shifting and Change of Heart_

Snape grabbed very hard the back of the chair behind which he was standing, but no one noticed. Everyone's attention was focused on Mary, who was speaking in a quiet and sad voice.

"You probably don't know about it, but in the school year before this one, my granddad was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwarts – at least until the Death Eaters kidnapped him. You-Know-Who put him under the Imperius Curse because he wanted my granddad to spy on the Headmaster for him. My granddad conquered the Imperius Curse without letting You-Know-Who know about it. He was going to warn Professor Dumbledore, but he did not have time… You-Know-Who can enter other people's minds. He realized that my granddad was not telling the truth, and he did not let him go. My granddad became a prisoner."

Mary took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

"He did not kill my granddad instantly because he discovered that Professor Dumbledore and my granddad knew each other quite well, and he thought he might get some more information out of him. My granddad must have tried to resist because it took some time…"

She looked up at Dumbledore again.

"You-Know-Who tried once again to force my granddad to be his spy, and by that time he had found out that my granddad loved a certain person more than anyone else. So he had me kidnapped, too. I think he was planning to send my granddad back to the school as though he had managed to escape and force him to obtain information from the Headmaster - in return for my life."

"But your granddad did not go back to Hogwarts," said Lupin.

"Perhaps he would have gone back in the end, I don't know," Mary answered. "But You-Know-Who unexpectedly changed his mind. I guess he knew that my granddad would be unwilling to serve him and might try to deceive him again. He might have thought of a different plan."

"We had been without a regular Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for quite a while," said Dumbledore. "The Ministry was looking for the professor, but we did not even know whether he was alive or not. I had to find another teacher urgently since the school year was not over yet. The news reached Voldemort, and gave him the idea that instead of using my poor old friend, he could plant one of his Death Eaters into the school as a teacher."

Black and Lupin hissed, but Potter shouted out aloud.

"A Death Eater as a _Hogwarts teacher_?!"

The back of the chair that Snape was clutching suddenly split with a loud crack. He stared at the pieces with a whitened face, wondering whether the wood had been broken by the sheer force of his grip or by another outbreak of emotional magic. Dumbledore made a hardly perceptible wand movement towards the chair, which repaired itself at once.

"It's time St Mungo's got some newer and better chairs," Dumbledore murmured; then he turned to Potter.

"You all can rest assured that the Death Eater in question did not get the job that he had applied for. But we found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher finally, and Voldemort must have given up his plans about Mary and her grandfather."

"My granddad fell seriously ill," said Mary. "The conditions in the prison were very bad, and he had been tortured many times. He was also awfully worried about me. You-Know-Who could hardly have used him for anything. So we both were prisoners now and he may have forgotten about us – for nearly a year, although it could have been a hundred years, for all I knew."

Snape could not help shuddering at the thought. Mary must have been tough to survive such a long time _there_.

"Then one day," Mary continued, "a guard came and took me to You-Know-Who. I had not seen my granddad for a long time. I did not even know if he was alive. Well, _he_ told me that my granddad was very ill, and that he needed someone to take care of him. He said he would let me go to my granddad and would allow me to ease his suffering... but only if …"

The pace of her breathing quickened and she was struggling with words. Following a wave of Dumbledore's wand, a cup materialized out of thin air. She took it and drank.

"I think," said Dumbledore, "we can all guess how Voldemort finished his offer."

"He wanted you to do something in return," said Lupin grimly to Mary.

She nodded. Tears were flowing from her eyes.

"Peter was with him. You-Know-Who said I had to go with Peter to another island and become a messenger between the two of them. I also had to … to observe things for him because it would have been suspicious if Peter had too often disappeared to report to him. This was on the day when you arrived here. Later, when Peter was not there, he also told me that I had to watch Peter as well. He did not trust him completely."

"Did you actually _accept_ his offer?" Potter asked, frowning.

"My granddad …," whispered Mary. "Try to understand…"

"Did you come here with Peter?" Black asked incredulously. "But how were you able to enter at all; and how was it possible that no one noticed you?"

A bitter smile appeared in the corner of Mary's mouth.

"Make a guess."

Black gasped.

"You? An Animagus, too?"

Mary shook her head.

"No, I am not an Animagus. I don't know how to shape-shift. _He_ … transfigured me, and Peter took me here. He changed into a rat, and we both were able to get through the defences without being noticed by anyone. You see, I did not have much of a choice. I could not change back into a human on my own, and I could not hope that anyone would realize that I was not a real animal. Besides, I wanted to see my granddad very much. I knew that he needed me. I … had to go back to him."

"And when you went back," Potter started slowly, "what did you tell Voldemort?"

"I did not have to tell anything," Mary answered. "He simply looked into my eyes… it was horrible, painful and frightening… and he saw my memories, the ones that he wanted to see. I could not hide them from him."

"Then I hope you were careful not to see or hear anything important while you were here," Potter said coldly.

"Don't you understand?" Snape snapped suddenly. "The Dark Lord would have _known_ if she had tried to stay away from us! He would have seen it in her mind, and he would have taken revenge on her grandfather!"

Mary cast a grateful glance at him.

"If I had not done what he wanted, or if I had not returned to the prison island, You-Know-Who would have tortured and killed my poor granddad … he told me so. On the very first day, I almost died in my transfigured state before I could even see my granddad once!"

"Did Voldemort really let you go to him?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, he did," said Mary. "He needed me to come and go between the two islands every day; therefore he allowed me to spend the time while I was in the prison with my granddad … mostly the nights. My granddad was very weak and sick, but I was able to help him a little. I even received various objects to make him more comfortable, like a blanket and a pillow, soft fruits that he could eat more easily than the regular prison food… Nothing magical though. _He_ said my granddad would not be tortured as long as I complied with his instructions."

She sighed.

"If you want to know what exactly Peter and I did … well, I had to watch you and I had to take You-Know-Who's instructions to Peter. I found out a lot of things about You-Know Who's plans in the meantime, and I wished I could warn you, I really did!"

"How did you deliver Voldemort's messages in your transfigured shape?" Black asked. "Peter must have changed you back when you talked to him!"

"No," Mary replied. "You-Know-Who changed me into a butterfly every day … a small animal that no one would notice … and he hid his messages magically in the pattern of my wings. On the first day, he taught Peter how to retrieve the messages with a spell. Peter sent him messages in the same way. Peter did not notice, but I managed to have a look at some of the messages."

She shuddered.

"I realized after a while that you were attempting to break into the prison, and my granddad did not want me to help You-Know-Who for his sake. I wanted you to succeed, and I tried to call your attention to myself several times – I had to be very careful so that You-Know-Who could not recognize these attempts for what they really were when he looked at my memories, and of course, I could only risk it when Peter was out of sight. I hoped that someone would realize that I was an abnormally behaving butterfly, and then I could warn you; maybe even help you, although I still did not know how I could keep You-Know-Who in the dark about it… But none of you noticed… James was my best hope, because he had always been so good at transfiguration, but he nearly killed me with a newspaper because I was irritating him."

"No way!" Potter protested.

"Yes, it is true," said Mary. "You may have forgotten, but I remember clearly. I went so close to you that I was disturbing you with my mere existence. I wanted your attention. You wanted to kill me."

"How could I have known?" Potter asked defensively. "How could I possibly have known?"

"No one is saying that you could have known," said Dumbledore soothingly. "Mary, could you tell us what you saw Peter do and what you found out about Voldemort's plans?"

"Peter damaged the ship," Mary explained. "It was You-Know-Who's order, and I think he had several purposes. He was convinced that the ship was a magically defendable vehicle as well as a means of escape in case you were under attack. He also wanted you to start renewing the defences around the island. I only later realized that he had ordered Peter to obtain an auxiliary wand. He probably expected Mr Moody to distribute the auxiliary wands among you in the emergency situation, but he was apparently wrong."

"He was not," said Lupin. "Moody did give us the auxiliary wands so that we could fortify the island more quickly."

Snape stared at the auror, who was lying as motionless in his sickbed as before, but his one eye was moving about rapidly, while he was listening to the conversation.

"Not everyone got an auxiliary wand that day," Snape said quietly. "Pettigrew was one of those who did not."

The auror raised his head from his pillow and gave an indistinct groan.

"So Peter did not obtain what You-Know-Who wanted for a long time," Mary continued, "although he probably tried in various ways. Meanwhile, You-Know-Who knew that some of you were trying to capture a prison guard for information. I don't know why he let you get away with it-"

"Not even Voldemort can see under Invisibility Cloaks," said Potter.

"Perhaps not," Mary agreed, "but it is also clear that he wanted to capture all of you, not only some. Anyway … in the end, you managed to capture a prison guard, but it was because he allowed you to. The guard probably had no idea about it. You-Know-Who did not mind that he might share some basic information with you. The guards did not know about his plans, and he was sure that you would be his prisoners before you could use any of the guard's information. It was Peter's job to convince you to send him to You-Know-Who in the shape of the captured prison guard. Most of all, Peter had to take an auxiliary wand to You-Know-Who so that he could attack you on this island."

Moody growled.

"I suppose, if anyone else had gone instead of Peter, they would have been caught immediately. It was not an accident that You-Know-Who let you capture a prison guard on the day before the full moon. Peter informed him about –"

Mary glanced nervously at Lupin, whose expression tensed.

"He also saw to it that those who attacked the prison guard sustained an injury."

"Only one of us did," Potter grunted.

"Well, you still had to wait another day before attacking the prison island, and he only needed an auxiliary wand and some time. Peter went to the prison island, and I'm sure he gave You-Know-Who the auxiliary wand at once."

Snape could almost feel his Dark Mark burn again as he had felt it the night when the Dark Lord called his Death Eaters to himself after receiving Pettigrew's present.

"I should have returned to him as well," Mary whispered, "like on other nights, but I did not return. Peter did not have time to pay attention to me, since he had many other things to do. As for You-Know-Who … he may have thought that I had fallen prey to a bird or a spider, which could have happened any time. He did not need me any more."

"What about your granddad?" Black asked.

Mary bent her head.

"He had died that morning, and that was why I decided that I would not go back to the prison. I had arranged everything so that the guard who came to take me to You-Know-Who thought he was only asleep. I came to this island nevertheless, because I did not have anywhere else to go. I wanted to try to contact you again … but I had no idea how. At night, Peter came back with the auxiliary wand. I saw him."

"It was Peter who set me free," said Lupin darkly. "Now I know… While I distracted everyone's attention, he took our broomsticks, destroyed Severus's potions and left, taking along Brockhoist as well."

With great difficulty, Moody sat up in his bed.

"The two-faced rat," he panted. "Daring to come into the tent where I was sleeping… I have been wondering how he did it …"

Moody paused and panted even more violently.

"But I know… I was sleeping that night as … I had never slept … in my life. It was … the Firewhisky … He had put … something into my goblet before he left … to make me sleepy."

He groaned again.

"I swear … I will never again accept a drink … from anyone's hands! Never…"

His head fell back on his pillow. No one smiled at the impossible oath.

"Well," said Mary, "you all know what happened in the morning when the Death Eaters came here."

"We don't know everything," Snape said. "How did you change back?"

"I can't tell you," Mary answered. "I could have flown away when the fire started, but I was not quick enough. I may not have wanted to escape very much … I was thinking of my granddad and anyway… what kind of future could I expect? But when I saw the snakes coming out of the flames, I got very frightened. You see I may have wanted to die, but I still did not want to meet any snakes. I am mortally afraid of them; even my boggart is a snake-"

"Boggart!" Potter slapped his forehead. "That's what I wanted to mention to Lily!"

Everyone started at the sudden cry.

"This is an Order meeting, mate," said Black, apparently amused. "Not a family get-together."

"Sorry," said Potter, turning slightly pink. "I have just remembered that I discovered a boggart in our wardrobe before we left home. I did not have time to deal with it then. I must send a message to Lily to remind her. It would be horrible if Harry had to face something scary as soon as he got home after so many weeks… Where is my wand?"

"You must always … know … where your wand is," Moody growled. "Constant -"

"- vigilance," Potter finished, looking around for his wand."

"Here," said Black, handing the wand to him. "But I'm sure my godson will sooner scare a boggart away than vice versa!"

"Now back to our story," said Dumbledore quietly. "While it only very rarely happens that humans unintentionally transform themselves into animals as a result of a great shock, the reverse can quite easily occur. Naturally, the better one can control the transformation process in general, the more likely one is to keep the animal shape in stressful circumstances."

"I saw the snakes," said Mary," and I suddenly found myself in my own shape screaming at the top of my voice. Then Severus came running … and he saved me from the snakes and the fire."

She cast a second grateful look at him, and Snape just barely caught a glimpse of the stag Patronus galloping across the tent.

"I hope you understand now why I wanted to help you break into the prison."

With these words, Mary finished her story. Dumbledore regarded her with benevolence; then he looked at Lupin and Black.

"Now it is your turn to continue recounting Peter Pettigrew's adventures," he said. "Not everyone knows yet that you discovered his change of heart during the battle on this island."

"That's right," said Lupin. "He fought on the side of the Death Eaters. He sent the Cruciatus Curse on Padfoot, who was fighting against another Death Eater."

"Only Moony's intervention saved my life," Black put in grimly.

"Peter's hood fell off. He put it back on very quickly, but Sirius and I recognized him. From that moment on, we tried to keep an eye on him. Sirius saw Voldemort speaking to him, and not much later we noticed that he was going to Disapparate."

"Peter was never very good at Apparating," Black explained. "He could not Disapparate very quickly, because he always needed almost a minute of preparation time. We had seen him do it many times… Remus and I had the same thought without even talking to each other. We fought our way to him and grabbed him."

"We were a moment too late, however" Lupin continued. "He Disapparated anyway, taking us along. We arrived on the prison island. I Disarmed Peter, and took Moody's Invisibility Cloak back from him. I saw that he was wearing Voldemort's mark on his forearm. Peter began begging, and he was willing to confess everything that he had done. He said that he had been spying for Voldemort for weeks before the rescue mission started."

Lupin's voice became especially bitter.

"Originally, Voldemort had wanted Peter to find the Longbottom family for him but Peter failed, therefore he offered his own friends to Voldemort as compensation."

"It seemed that Voldemort had sent him to the prison island with a message to the guards," Black said darkly. "But Wormtail did not tell us what the message was."

"No," said Lupin. "He managed to change into a rat and hide. But at least we knew that he was not able to Disapparate from the island without a wand, and he also had to deliver Voldemort's message. Sirius changed into a dog and tried to follow the scent of the rat. We tracked it to the prison building, where the battle was already over. Once inside, Peter found a hiding hole where we could not follow him, but we did not give up. I stayed on the spot where Peter had vanished, under Moody's Invisibility Cloak, while Sirius searched the building. In the end, Sirius found Peter in one of the swamp-covered corridors of the prison cells."

"I had to pull the rat out of the swamp," said Black. "This time I did not let it escape. Later Remus and I discovered that we were unable to force it to change back into Peter. We were nevertheless sure that it _was_ Peter… We had seen him too many times in his Animagus form to make a mistake there."

"And so you handed this rat over to me," said Dumbledore. "I examined it as well as I could, and I found evidence that it was not an ordinary rat; yet, it was a rat without magic, which could not be changed back into its original human form. I confess I was rather puzzled until I heard the missing part of the story from Severus."

Now everyone looked at Snape, who explained once again the secret of the Ultimate Protection and told everyone about his decision to sacrifice his magical power and about the unexpected "return" of said magical power less than a day later. Potter, Black and Lupin looked at him horrified, Mary with astonishment, while Moody gave another indistinct groan.

"Peter Pettigrew," said Dumbledore, "must have opened the door before Severus. Why he did it, we cannot know for sure, although a likely guess is that he was looking for a way out. He may not have known the prison building very well yet, and the new door may have confused him. He had to change back into a human to open the door, but he must have become a rat once more instantly – just in time to be able to perform this last magic before he lost his power. The result is this."

Dumbledore pointed at the rat with his wand. The black cloth flew back onto the cage, covering it completely again.

"Peter did not possess a wand before opening the door. Remus had Disarmed him, and he must have lost the allegiance of his wand; therefore the Ultimate Protection remained in place until Severus opened the door again. Lord Voldemort probably realized what had happened; but he was too busy fighting against me to hurry to his fortress at once. Eventually he Disapparated, causing his Death Eaters to flee as well. I had a suspicion that he might go to the prison island, in which case you would need some reinforcements, so I followed him. However, I informed the aurors first, some of whom were willing to accompany me."

Dumbledore looked at Snape.

"When you have some time, Severus, will you whip up a painkiller for this poor wretch?"

He indicated the cage with his hand.

"It seems to suffer occasional attacks of intense pain."

"I don't know how my potions will affect an ordinary rat," said Snape, "but I can try."

"I must mention one more detail," said Mary slowly. "I don't know how much Peter knew about the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix. But I think that he betrayed at least one piece of information that You-Know-Who considered important besides the matters relating to the present mission."

"What was it?" Potter asked.

"I have no idea," Mary answered. "Before I first came to this island, I heard You-Know-Who praising Peter for mentioning 'the other topic' and telling him that he had to find out more about that, too."

There was a short pause.

"And now," said Dumbledore finally, "there is one last question to discuss. This Order base is a hospital island at the moment. Of course, the patients must be taken to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Since the Silvana has burned down, we have no means yet to transport those who are in very bad condition without risking their recovery. Hopefully, the hospital and the Ministry will promptly solve this problem. Needless to say, we must expect visits from relatives wanting to see their long-lost family members. The news of the successful rescue is already spreading like wildfire in Britain, and the Ministry is currently besieged by owls carrying letters of inquiry."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine the Daily Prophet's article about the successful rescue mission.

"We must allow these visits but without compromising the safety of our island. Today, the aurors are guarding us, since you all need a day's rest, but most of the aurors will go away tomorrow, and I need some Order members to stay. Lily has already left, and James, as a family man, may go home as well. Severus is being sorely missed by Professor Slughorn, and I promised that I would not keep him away longer than necessary. That leaves Remus and Sirius. I will also send a few other Order members here to you."

"Are you going away?" Lupin asked.

"I have to leave immediately, in fact," said Dumbledore. "I will come back as soon as I can, but I am expected at the Ministry now. I also want to be there when they arrange the order of visits to this island."

He Summoned the cage, waved to the group at large, and vanished.

The momentary silence was broken by James Potter.

"Blimey, what a st-"

The words stuck in his throat when all of a sudden a silver-white doe appeared, and the tent was filled by Lily's terrified voice.

"He is coming into the house! I'm trying to flee with Harry!"

* * * * *

**Author****'s note**: I understand the difference between Patronuses and Animagus forms. In canon – in the books – it is possible for a character to have the same animal as an Animagus form and as a Patronus although it is never said that the two _must_ be the same. (I can't recall an actual example in the books where the two are different.) Anyway, in my opinion, a stag is a perfect representation of James Potter in both cases for several reasons. Among other things, I think James Potter's happy thought could easily be the same as a stag's: To be able to spectacularly defeat rival males (and to win mating rights). So I used "the fanfiction writer's licence" (such as it is) and assigned the stag to James Potter as his Patronus in this particular story.


	16. Green Light in Godric’s Hollow

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs entirely to J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 16**

_Green Light in Godric's Hollow_

"TO GODRIC'S HOLLOW!!!"

Potter roared like a stag ready to charge, and his fingers tensed around his wand. Unfortunately, a roar could not make Disapparition any quicker. This time in fact, no Apparition took place at all, although Potter was not the only one to try.

"Dumbledore alone can do it just like this," Moody muttered, reaching for his wand, too.

He murmured a spell, making Apparition possible on the island, and only seconds later Snape landed outside a house whose fence was lying flat on the ground. He had to fight off the images that his experience with the Dark Lord was suggesting. Their best hope was that Lily had managed to escape. In that case, they would find no one in the house. If Lily and her son were still there, the time that had passed since the sending of the doe Patronus must have been more than enough for the Dark Lord to finish the job that he had come to do. Still, Snape was concentrating on a Lily who needed to be saved, a Lily who was _going to be_ saved. All four of them – Snape, Potter, Black and Lupin – hurtled over the toppled fence, then through a doorway without a door and into a house where unmistakable signs of destruction showed them the way.

They heard the clamour of fighting wands mingled with shouts, screams and a sharp, cold laughter, then the sounds of falling, breaking furniture, perhaps walls, as they were running up a staircase, following the noise. The hallway upstairs was empty except for the fallen and broken objects scattered all over the floor. They all rushed in the direction where an inarticulate cry came from one of the rooms, and they were greeted by a sight that made every one of them freeze.

The Dark Lord was standing in the middle of the Potters' master bedroom. They saw his profile, his wand hand holding _two_ wands, one of which Snape recognized as the wand that Lily had lent him a few hours before. The Dark Lord was staring at a long, black, rectangular box whose lid slowly opened just enough to barely reveal a corpse inside; then it closed again immediately with an echoing bang. The Dark Lord's hand was shaking, and he seemed unable to take his eyes off the box as the lid slowly started to open again.

Snape carefully stepped on Potter's foot and pressed it. Potter was gaping at the Dark Lord open-mouthed, but suddenly he looked like someone who had just woken up from a dream.

"Go," Snape whispered to him, "go and find –"

But Potter did not listen to him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Potter bellowed, running towards the Dark Lord, with his wand pointed at him. "Stupify!"

Certain that Potter had just let a marvellous opportunity to sneak Lily and the child out of the house slip through his fingers, Snape silently cursed the Gryffindor bravado. As Lupin and Black hastened to join the fight, he quickly backed out of the room. While Lily was wandless, her chances of survival remained slim. Potter would have found her more easily, Snape did not even know his way around the house, but Potter had poked the almost sleeping dragon in the eye, and was attacking the Dark Lord at the moment, instead of quietly running away, saving his family.

He checked the room on the opposite side of the hallway, but it was empty. He ran on, trying the room adjacent to the one where the fight was taking place. The door was locked.

"Alohomora," he breathed impatiently.

The door opened wide, and Lily, holding her child in her arms, bolted for the hallway. Snape caught her and put his wand into her hand.

"Lift the Anti-Apparition spell, and Disapparate," he said quickly. "You have no chance to reach the exit without magic."

Lily gasped as she recognized him.

"James?" she asked anxiously.

"Fighting," said Snape darkly. "He is not alone. The Dark Lord is less likely to attempt a Killing Curse while fighting against several opponents at the same time. You must flee! The Dark Lord wants to kill your son," he added, playing the ultimate trump card. "Go to Hogwarts!"

Lily stammered the words that removed the Anti-Apparition spell, but at the same moment, the wall separating the child's bedroom from the parents' bedroom came down upon them with a thundering crash. Snape tugged Lily away from the falling bricks, but the wand slipped out of her hand. Snape dived for it, picked it up, and seized Lily by the arm again, poised to flee with her and the child.

It was too late. Apparition was impossible again. The windows and the doorways were covered with bars, magical bars, emitting greenish light beams, and Snape realized that they were trapped.

"James…," Lily moaned.

A powerful spell threw Black and Lupin across the room, and they landed behind the ruins of the destroyed wall, unconscious. The Dark Lord was already turning towards Lily and Snape, his wand directed at them. They could see Potter behind the Dark Lord, hanging upside down in the air, helplessly staring at a most pitiful creature in front of him. It was a stag, bleeding from several wounds, with limbs shaking, facing Potter directly. The largest part of the stag's antlers seemed to have been sawn off. Potter whimpered, and Lily made a movement as though wanting to run to him.

"Protego!" Snape shouted, jumping away from Lily.

He had had about half a moment to decide on the jump, and he was very much afraid that he would regret the decision. The Shield Charm that now separated Lily, her son, Lupin and Black from everyone else in the room was so strong that the Dark Lord, just about to attack, nearly lost his balance. He took a stumbling step towards Snape, who had voluntarily remained on the more dangerous side of the Shield Charm and was dashing to Potter now.

"Liberacorpus!"

He expected that he would immediately pay for missing the chance to protect himself, but he wanted to be Lily's true friend to the last. As Potter fell down like a lifeless sack at the feet of the defeated stag, Snape wheeled around to face the Dark Lord again, almost sure that it was already too late.

But the curse that the Dark Lord had begun saying remained unfinished. Snape bolted across the room while the Dark Lord was starting a different spell, a non-verbal one this time, and Snape looked back just in time to see a wall of thick smoke rising in front of the stag turned coffin. The Dark Lord apparently had no time to think of anything funny and death-related, therefore he placed the boggart temporarily out of sight.

Potter coughed, and Snape managed to cast another Shield Charm, redoubling the magic protecting Lily. Exhausted now, he fell on the floor as a furious and terrible Dark Lord was focusing his attention on him again.

"Avada –" the Dark Lord began, but Snape rolled out of the way of the curse, and sent yet another Shield Charm towards Lily, putting all his remaining strength into the spell.

He had no more energy to flee or the power to defend himself against the Dark Lord's curses. But he still had an idea, as a last resort, which had just occurred to him.

"You are doing a great disservice to yourself," he snarled at the dark wizard towering above him.

The Dark Lord's face was distorted by a cold, malevolent smile.

"Afraid at last?" he asked, ending the question with a long, sinister hiss.

"I am not asking you to let me live," Snape said, carefully calculating his words to arouse the Dark Lord's curiosity. "I want something else, and I am offering you a deal – the last one in my life."

The snake-like face reflected astonishment, but only for a moment. Snape was clinging to the hope that Lily would soon find a way to remove the magical bars. He would be satisfied if he could buy enough time for them to flee – if not, then he had to try his best to go through with his freshly made plan.

"A deal?" said the Dark Lord with evident contempt. "A bargain? I am not negotiating with anyone here – especially not with a filthy little traitor."

He pointed his wand between Snape's eyes. But Snape was ready for anything now.

"Do you want to kill me so easily?" Snape taunted his enemy. "Is that all a traitor deserves in the end? No torture this time? Just plain death as a reward for all the information I gave Dumbledore about you and your faithful followers? For breaking the Ultimate Protection?"

Livid now, the Dark Lord was beginning to forget about the Potters.

"If it is all that you want …" he whispered, glaring at Snape malignantly. "Crucio!"

Snape was prepared and he bit his lips because he really did not want to yell out this time, but across the pain that was tearing into every inch of his body, he could faintly hear that someone else was crying instead of him. It was the cry of a frightened child, of the Potter kid, who had been surprisingly silent in all the battle noise so far, but was crying now when everyone else was silent, and there were no other sounds but this cry and the panting of a tortured man.

The voice of the kid reminded the Dark Lord of his original purpose, and he lifted the curse much sooner than he had planned. Snape's wand flew out of his hand, but the pain was gone, even though its memory remained.

"Satisfied now?" spat the Dark Lord. "Are you now ready to die?"

Snape could sense it in his nerves that in the other room, Lily was examining the magical bars; hoping against hope, he could not let the Dark Lord kill him just yet.

"I am offering you what you want most of all," he said, not quite understanding where he found the power to speak yet, "in exchange for what I want. Fair enough. You will regret it later if you refuse."

"You have no idea what I want most of all," snapped the Dark Lord, but Snape noticed that he lowered his wand a little bit.

"I can tell you," Snape answered. "You want to defeat the one that the prophecy spoke about. You think you know the way – but you are wrong. I know the truth now, and I can share it with you if you are willing to pay the price I'm asking. Then you can kill me as you want to."

"You are a liar," said the Dark Lord. "You cannot know as much as I know."

"I know why you are here," said Snape. "But I also know that you are making a huge mistake."

He remembered what Dumbledore had told him. The Longbottoms were not the only family the prophecy could refer to. He was certain that Dumbledore had meant the Potters then – and he knew now what information Pettigrew must have given the Dark Lord when he had failed to track down the Longbottoms for him. The Dark Lord had come to kill Lily's child – and everyone who was protecting him. But Snape was not going to let him.

The Dark Lord was already hesitating, pondering the chance that Snape might be telling the truth. Snape was inventing on the spur of the moment.

"I was prevented from hearing the whole prophecy," he said. "You know that. I told you only the first half. But I found it out later from Dumbledore. He trusted me… The first half is nothing. You cannot protect yourself without knowing the second half."

The Dark Lord seized the front of Snape's robes, pulled him close to himself, and his eyes bored into Snape's eyes. His wand was touching Snape's neck. Snape managed to overcome his fear just enough to keep his mind in control. He recalled the moment when he had been caught listening at the door in the Hog's Head. Then he let the Dark Lord see numerous flashes of memories of his one-to-one meetings with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, he let the Dark Lord see him sitting next to Dumbledore at the staff table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts until it seemed finally possible that the Dark Lord could believe him to have become the Headmaster's trusted confidant.

"Perhaps I have already given you enough proof," Snape growled watching the Dark Lord very closely.

The next moment he was shoved roughly onto the floor, where he caught a glimpse of Black and Lupin stirring at last, far behind the Dark Lord's back.

"Dumbledore has taken leave of his senses," said the Dark Lord disdainfully. "But I can't see any new information in your mind about the prophecy."

Snape successfully produced a mysterious smirk. It helped that he could hear Potter inching very quietly towards the others. Snape was more than thirty years younger than the Dark Lord, who might be the most powerful dark wizard alive, but his hearing did not match up to the hearing of a twenty-year-old. Hopefully, three Gryffindor men would be equal to the task of saving a Gryffindor woman and her child from a murderous enemy whose attention was being distracted by a Slytherin. He raised his voice a little, just in case.

"I am not letting you see it," he said with pretended self-confidence. "Not until you pay the price I want."

The Dark Lord hissed.

"I can tear your mind apart if I want to," he said furiously. "Don't talk about prices to me!"

"You may," said Snape defiantly, "but you still will not find the information you need. You can get it from me only when I give it to you willingly."

He attempted to get to his feet again. The Dark Lord's wand was firmly pointed at him.

"Legilimency does not work," Snape continued. "I can stop you. Just so you know … Most Death Eaters try to learn Occlumency in your service. A side effect of too much Legilimency, I suppose. Some of them succeed."

"I don't trust you," said the Dark Lord.

"My life is in your hands," said Snape. "Why would you be _afraid_ of me?"

"Be careful what you say," snarled the Dark Lord.

Snape held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You have the power to kill me as soon as you know the secret," he said. "It all depends on you."

"What do you want?" asked the Dark Lord suspiciously.

Snape stared into his eyes.

"Let them go," he said, willing the Dark Lord to believe him. "They are not the ones that you have to kill. I will tell you what you have to do if you let them go. That is my price. Let them go and I will stay here. I will tell you everything. Then you can do to me whatever you want to."

He had no idea what he would tell the Dark Lord (and he knew nothing about the continuation of the prophecy), but it did not matter. He was going to be killed anyway.

There came another cold, high-pitched laughter.

"Are you still protecting your Mudblood love, you fool? Do you think you can deceive me so easily with your pathetic little lies? You want to die for her – again!"

At this moment, there was a small explosion and the bars disappeared from the windows and the doors; but the Dark Lord spun around at once, waved his wand, and Lily was flying towards him, as though being pulled by an invisible string, her child still in her arms. She would have fallen as she landed, but Snape caught her.

"LILY! NO!" Potter yelled, dashing after her, with Black and Lupin at his heels.

A jet of light, and all three of them collapsed, crashing into a wall that seemed to be made of fog. The Dark Lord's wand was directed at Lily, and Snape was ready to go down on his knees to beg for her life.

"I will deal with those ones later," the Dark Lord said slowly. "But now, let me have a look at you."

He regarded her with a contemptuous sneer.

"This lad here, who used to be my trusted Death Eater, wants to die to save you so much that it is almost touching. He deserves to get his wish. Here is the deal _I am_ _offering_ to the two of you. At Severus's request, I will let you live and go away, but Severus will promise to come with me and tell me everything that he knows. He will promise to do _anything_ that I tell him to do."

He shot an ominous look at Snape, full of hatred and triumph.

"Anything," Snape said immediately, without thinking.

In the background, Potter, Black and Lupin were struggling to get rid of the fog-like wall that had stopped them.

"But you," said the Dark Lord to Lily, "will leave your child here with me. You can have other children. I only want this one."

"No!" Lily screamed, clutching the little boy with all her might. "You will have to kill me before you can harm him! He did nothing to you, please, have mercy on him, and kill me instead! Please!"

Even as she was pleading, the Dark Lord waved his wand, aiming at the child.

"Avada –"

Lily ducked, shielding her son with her own body, and Snape jumped between her and the curse. Potter launched himself headlong towards the Dark Lord from behind, Black and Lupin charging on both sides, firing spells.

"- Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light or maybe a series of flashes, strong enough to fill the whole room and to blind Snape completely, as he was lifted off the floor and sent hurtling across the room, until he fell down again, knowing no more.

* * * * *

_Green eyes __… Green light … Green must be the colour of death … _

These were Snape's first thoughts as he regained consciousness and gradually became aware of his environment. The first thing that he noticed was – oddly – the flapping of large wings, then an owl flying close to him, dropping a letter onto his face before leaving again. He rarely got letters. This one came from the Ministry. The Ministry's stamp was recognizable on the envelope at a glance. Having more pressing matters on his mind, he carelessly stuffed the letter into his pocket, and tried to look around

He was obviously alive, but his surroundings seemed quiet, suspiciously quiet, frighteningly quiet... He was lying alone among the draughty ruins of a formerly richly furnished room. He slowly raised his head and his upper body. The silence around him was chilling, and he did not understand why he could not see anyone else.

He was alone … except … Except that there was someone lying on the floor right in front of him, spread-eagled, with stiff limbs, with a bloodless white face and with blank eyes opened wide.

Green eyes opened wide…

Snape stared at the sight embodying what he now knew had been his greatest fear ever since he had heard about the two Order members imprisoned in the Dark Lord's prison; and a howl issued from his throat, the howl of a mortally wounded animal, a howl that might have ripped the soul out of him.

Lily was dead. She was dead because the Dark Lord had killed her, dead because he had failed to protect her, dead because of the prophecy that he had overheard on that fatal night more than a year before. Why was _he_ alive? It was unfair. _He_ should have died instead of Lily or with Lily, and he wished nothing more than immediate death; death much rather than a future that he was to spend knowing how he had failed and what he had done.

He heard footsteps, he heard someone call out his name, but he did not care. It did not matter whether he was alone or not, it did not matter who could be there besides him, because nothing and no one could help him any more.

Two strong hands seized him by the arm and pulled him away from Lily, but he did not even look up. He saw the back of someone stepping in front of him, so that he could not see Lily, but he kept staring in the same direction, struggling against the hands that kept dragging him away. It took him a long time to realize what he was witnessing, and at first he paid no attention whatsoever to the pale, yellowish orb that rose in front of the man who separated him from Lily. Everything was blurred, watery before him as though his eyesight was about to die, mourning Lily, as his voice must have died as well. His vocal cords refused to function after paying their last respects to her.

"Riddikulus!" shouted a throaty voice, and the yellowish orb began to grow so rapidly that Snape had to notice it now, and when it seemed it could grow no more, it burst like an overblown balloon, and vanished from sight.

Lupin turned around, his face as pale as the moon, and Black's grip on Snape's arms slackened a little.

"Come, Severus," Lupin said wearily. "They are over there."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**1. Perhaps I have not made it clear so far, but when I think of "canon", I think of the books in the first place. I may deviate from interview canon many times without knowing about it, simply because I have not read all the interviews and I don't remember every interview that I **_**have**_** read. Moreover, I think JKR had the chance to put everything that she wanted to be canon into the books. She also had plenty of time to **_**think**_** about what she was going to publish. The interview questions, however, depend on the reporters, not on her, and when they ask her about things that are not in the books, she may sometimes have to answer questions that she has not even thought about before. The interviews are interesting, but I cannot consider them the same as book canon at least until JKR decides to include interview data in future HP editions. Having said that, I must mention that I was reading this discussion with great interest. Thank you all for all the input.**

**2. Just for the record, I do see a difference between a stag Patronus and a nose-biting cup Patronus. The nose-biting cup seems to be all about Snape, while the stag may refer to a broader range of behaviour (including Quidditch, ****a leader's position in his own gang, perhaps even the Head Boy status).**

**3. I don't want to make anyone feel better about the Lily-James relationship. The stag-doe symbolism is in the books, and I am quite sure that it cannot be separated from the relationship, and I do not think that James Potter's **_**Patronus**_** being a stag adds anything to the symbolism that is not already in canon. For example, if Lily's Patronus wants to represent her love for James, it will likely be a doe even if Potter's Patronus is a nose-biting cup, as I do not think that Lily's Patronus would ever take the shape of a female nose-biting cup. Harry's Patronus represents his father; and it seems to be no problem that the representation might be based on the father's Animagus form. If the Animagus-Patronus symbolism is possible in the Harry-James relationship, it must be possible in the Lily-James relationship as well. **

**However, as Whitehound pointed out, the stag and the doe belong to different animal species, so the reader is free to think that the match between Lily and James may have been about as perfect as the one between Hagrid's parents. What I, personally, find interesting is that the Lily-James relationship is symbolised by a female deer – male deer pair, while the Lily-Snape relationship is symbolised by identical animals. The first implies some kind of partnership, while the second implies perfect identification on Snape's part with Lily, and it may even refer to Snape being rejected by her. **


	17. The Dragon's Fire

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the HP world. It belongs entirely to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 17**

_The Dragon__'s Fire_

Lily was kneeling on the floor, still clutching her child, and sobbing under the impact of the recent trauma and the relief. Next to her, Potter was kneeling, stroking her back, holding a tiny hand in his big hand and kissing it just as the three men entered.

The Dark Lord was nowhere.

Harry Potter, a thin, blood-red streak on his forehead, glanced across his mother's shoulder.

"Dah," he announced happily, acknowledging the homecoming of his Daddy.

Snape was leaning against the remains of a wall, not quite sure whether he dared to believe what he saw. Lily alive. Lily with her child, for whom she had been ready to die. Lily with her family, oblivious to the world around them. It had to be like this. The difference between this image and the image of a dead Lily shown to him by the boggart was so striking that Snape was overwhelmed by a strange, unknown emotion, sweeping away all the jealousy and the bitterness that would have otherwise surged up within him at this sight, and leaving him with a vague, new kind of longing, which he could not give a name.

He was roused by a touch on his shoulder. He turned his head reluctantly, and he saw Black gesturing silently towards the doorway, where Albus Dumbledore was standing, watching the destroyed room.

Dumbledore, Black, Lupin and Snape made their way among the ruins to what must have been the kitchen, where Dumbledore was promptly filled in on the details of the Dark Lord's attack on the Potters' home.

Snape was rather curious to learn what had happened after he had passed out, but it turned out that the others knew only slightly more than he did about the Dark Lord's disappearance. It transpired that every one of them must have lost consciousness for at least a few minutes, except perhaps the little boy. In the meantime, the Dark Lord had vanished, but none of them was able to explain why he had gone or how they had all survived the Killing Curse, which left only a single mark behind: The scar on Harry Potter's head.

The possibility that the Dark Lord, even after a failed Killing Curse, might choose to abandon the idea of killing people he had been bent on eliminating, especially when said persons dropped unconscious in front of him, was as improbable as the idea of a forest fire stopping of its own volition. Since nobody had been in a position to kill or otherwise neutralize him, the mystery seemed to have no solution.

When Dumbledore had heard them out (to Snape's relief, the only mention of the boggart was in connection with the Dark Lord), he was thinking long and hard before speaking again.

"Severus, may I see your left arm?" he asked finally.

Snape did his best to conceal his resentment as he was uncovering his forearm. He was looking firmly at Dumbledore. Lately, he had grown to loathe the mere sight of the mortifying brand that he was doomed to watch until the end of his life. Therefore what he first noticed was the triumphant flash in the old wizard's eyes. He followed Dumbledore's gaze, and his heart missed a beat: The Dark Mark on his left forearm had faded. It was, in fact, not a dark, but a very faint, hardly visible mark now.

He was staring at it even after Dumbledore had obviously seen enough.

"It seems," said the professor, measuring his words carefully, "we have more reason to rejoice than we thought at first. The wizarding world may start experiencing once again what life without Lord Voldemort can be like."

"Do you think he is … _dead_?" Snape asked eagerly.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "I think he has lost his power … his magical power and other powers, too, perhaps. But I don't think he is dead or that he has left us forever. He may return one day. But every year, every month, every day without him will be to our advantage; and when he returns, we must be prepared."

"Is his magic blocked now, like Wormtail's?" Lupin asked.

"I believe," Dumbledore said "what happened to Voldemort is something quite different. His loss is not due to the blocking of his magical talent. What must have happened here is in many ways more terrible but not necessarily more permanent than that."

"What happened here?" Black asked.

"Alas," Dumbledore answered, "I cannot explain it to you. Not yet anyway. I have my suspicions – but it would be premature to discuss them yet."

There seemed to be a hint of disagreement in Black's glance, but Dumbledore's words had made it clear that he was not going to enter into any further guesses regarding the Dark Lord's physical state. Lupin tried a different approach.

"But _how_ did it happen? I mean … who or what did it? How did we all survive?"

."As far as I know," said Dumbledore, "this story is quite … unprecedented. I have never heard about anyone who was hit by a Killing Curse and survived."

"Was anyone hit by it?" Snape asked. "The Dark Lord was casting a Killing Curse, we all heard that. But that curse does not make anyone pass out. It is meant to kill."

"True," said Dumbledore. "But magic is not all spells and wand movements, you must be aware of that. Undoubtedly, the curse clashed with something utterly powerful, with a sort of magic that can work without spells and without wands."

Dumbledore looked around and his gaze rested for a moment on each of them in turn.

"What does it take to cast a Killing Curse?" he asked. "Severus … have you ever attempted it?"

Black's head jerked up and Lupin gasped. An answer to this question could be worth a long time in Azkaban. Snape flushed.

"I have," he said, and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. _Why could not Dumbledore wait with this topic until they were alon_e?

"What happened then?"

There was a long silence, and Snape could feel the cold glares of his former schoolmates upon him.

"Not much," he said, staring at the floor in front of his boots. "It did not work."

_Not __much_? The sheer memory of what had happened _after_ the failed attempt used to send a chill down his spine for months. Not any more though. He raised his head, still carefully avoiding meeting anyone's eyes.

"I could not do it."

"Why not?" asked Dumbledore. "You are a talented wizard."

The cross-examination was irritating him. What was Dumbledore's purpose with it? Did he really deserve this treatment now? What if he refused to answer?

"Perhaps it needs practising?" he said sharply.

As a matter of fact, he had expected to be put through some sort of training afterwards, but it had never happened. The Dark Lord had been content to use him in other ways - not that he had really been allowed to forget the failure... and he had wanted to do well, oh, how _much_ he had wanted to do well...

"Some of your contemporaries," said Dumbledore, "successfully used the curse early on. But not you. Why?"

That was true. Some of the young Death Eaters, less talented than him, had been quite good at it. He had _invented_ Sectumsempra, a potentially lethal weapon, which was something that very few could have done at that age; and yet he had not been able to _use_ an Unforgivable when he had tried. Why? He knew the answer. He had known it ever since Bellatrix Lestrange had been kind enough to point it out to him with her usual tact.

"My heart was not in it," he said quietly. "When you use an Unforgivable, you must truly mean it. You have to really _want_ that person to drop dead in front of you, for instance."

He risked a glance at Dumbledore, who nodded thoughtfully.

"I have brought up this question," Dumbledore said mildly, "because you must understand how the curse works. A part of the magic is a very strong will to kill someone, to completely destroy someone, to really achieve what the curse can do. It is inseparable from the rest of the magic operating the curse. I have come to the conclusion that it was the murderous will of Lord Voldemort that met its match today."

Snape looked at Lupin and Black now, and saw that they did not understand Dumbledore's words any better than he did.

"What force can oppose the will to murder?" Dumbledore continued. "Is it the will to live? Of course, it is not. The Killing Curse was specifically invented to defeat that. It is the will to _save someone else_. It must be very strong – strong enough to reach the level of self-sacrifice. The only force that can overcome this dark curse motivated by the murderer's will to sacrifice someone else for the murderer's selfish interests is the willingness to sacrifice ourselves for someone else. This willingness is born of love, a power that Lord Voldemort has never been able to understand or to appreciate."

The explanation was taking a decidedly awkward turn. Dumbledore smiled.

"My impression is that an exceptional amount of self-sacrificing love and strong will to save others must have been manifested in this house today. Ironically, with all the torture and taunting, it was Voldemort himself who gave you the chance to show the full power of your determination and your love. One self-centred act by any of you might have been enough for Voldemort to win. And yet, he was defeated."

Dumbledore's eyes lingered on Snape for a moment.

"I know weathering this storm took more than _just_ _love_. It took plenty of courage, good fighting skills, some cunning and maybe even a stroke of luck. But none of these would have helped without the most essential ingredient."

They were all silent for a while, lost for words. Lupin spoke first.

"So the curse…?"

"It must have lost its focus, it must have fallen apart," said Dumbledore. "Its portions hit all of you a little, but not in a mortal way. When it finally did reach its destination - Harry Potter, who was in the centre of Voldemort's murderous intention, as well as in the ultimate centre of all the protective love around him - the curse rebounded, I think. It destroyed the one who had sent it, the only person in the room who was outside this circle of self-sacrificing love. He may not have been killed; but for now, his power is lost, as Death Eaters all over the country must be realizing now."

Snape could vividly imagine the faces of Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, Igor Karkaroff and others noticing the disappearance of their Dark Marks. Would they be able to guess what had happened?

"How did _you_ know?" he asked suddenly. "How did you know that something was happening ... _here_?"

"Oh, there is nothing mysterious about that," said Dumbledore. "I only wish I had known earlier... Alastor wanted to alert me as soon as you Disapparated, but he was too weak to produce a corporeal talking Patronus. Mary, who did not have a wand yet, ran to the aurors, one of whom sent word to the Ministry. Unfortunately, the message was stalled somewhere in the system. I came here immediately after receiving the information."

Dumbledore paused for a moment.

"We cannot rule out the possibility that at least some of the Death Eaters knew where their boss was planning to go today."

"James, Lily and Harry cannot stay here," Black said at once. "This house has been demolished. They will come and stay with me. In my house, there is room for all six of us."

Snape was silently calculating. What did Black mean by _all six of them_? The invitation could certainly not be extended to include _him _as well? Then again, if there was the slightest chance that the Potters might be threatened by some revengeful Death Eaters, keeping them company would be a good idea.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "I will send replacements from the Order to the island, and I will let Horace know that he should try to survive a few more days without Severus."

He rose.

"This house is magically protected at the moment, but I suggest you all leave as quickly as you can. However, I must speak to Lily and James first."

Dumbledore walked back upstairs at a surprisingly brisk pace. Black and Lupin were looking at Snape as though they had just seen him for the first time in their lives.

* * *

Black lived in an old house that had definitely seen better days but still retained an air of elegance and grace. The Potter family moved into the largest bedroom, while each of the rest of them had a smaller bedroom on his own. Lily was busy with her child, Lupin made a quick trip to the Order's island to collect their left-behind belongings, while Potter visited Diagon Alley to pick up a few Galleons and to buy certain items to replace things that had been destroyed with their house.

Lupin brought the news that he had called on Moody, who was still very ill, and met Mary, who was getting better, but both were very interested in what had happened in Godric's Hollow and how they all were doing. Potter returned in the evening with a new cot, a set of baby clothes and a collection of toys for Harry. He had also bought a golden necklace for Lily.

"This is a very important day, worth celebrating," Potter said excitedly, as he put the necklace around Lily's neck. "Our house will stand again, but Voldemort is gone, and there are parties everywhere! All along Diagon Alley," he added proudly, "wizards and witches stopped me to congratulate and to express their gratitude to us."

* * *

Owls started to arrive in the morning, flying in through the open window, bringing a multitude of letters addressed to James and Lily Potter. Potter was opening the envelopes with undisguised delight during breakfast, Lupin helping him. Lily, who was spoon-feeding her child, did not have time for the letters, but Lupin and Potter read out the ones that they liked most, making all of them listen.

Black was playing peek-a-boo with his godson, using Potter's Invisibility Cloak, distracting the eating child all the time, to Lily's silent but still quite obvious vexation.

Snape was poring over the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

Death Eaters on the run. Aurors rounding them up. The Prophet unable to even guess what exactly had cost the Dark Lord his power. The name _Potter_ everywhere. Dumbledore unavailable for interviews. The Ministry cautioning the wizarding community against too much optimism yet. Celebrations so loud and open that even the Muggles took note. Interview with James Potter in the Leaky Cauldron.

Snape poured a cup of coffee for himself.

_Potter must have meant this__ last one to be a surprise_, he thought. _He obviously enjoys the media hype, the attention-seeking prat. _

_But Lily loves him._

He sighed bitterly and sipped at his coffee.

"Oh, wait!" Potter shouted suddenly, bending over a freshly opened envelope. "This one is from Dumbledore!"

Snape looked up.

"He says he wants to talk to me and Lily once again. We must meet him in the Dragon's Fire," - Potter threw a quick glance at the large clock on the wall - "in twenty minutes."

"That's just round the corner," said Black. "You know the place, Prongs, don't you?"

Potter nodded. Lily raised an eyebrow.

"You do???"

Black laughed.

"It is not worse than the Hog's Head, really. But I would never have thought that Dumbledore..."

Snape wondered if Black had any knowledge about Dumbledore conducting _job interviews_ in the Hog's Head precisely.

"I would not put it past him," said Potter, winking. "We must get ready at once."

As Potter left the kitchen, Snape's gaze was caught by Dumbledore's letter left open on the breakfast table. He did not know why it gave him an unpleasant feeling. Something about the thin, slanting writing seemed wrong, but he did not know what.

"Severus, will you, please, continue?" Lily asked, thrusting a small spoon into Snape's hand, and turning the high-chair with the toddler in it towards him.

Snape blinked.

Lily vanished behind the door, and the Potter kid was impatiently and loudly demanding his food.

Completely aware of the snickers coming from the direction of Black and Lupin, Snape gave up the idea of a Silencing Charm, and carefully directed a spoon full of ... _something_ towards the open mouth of Lily's child.

To his surprise, it went quite well. The majority of the baby food did find its way down the kid's throat. After a while, Lily reappeared, and placed a light kiss on her son's head.

"Be good, my dear."

"I think I should go with you," Snape said abruptly.

Lily cast a startled look at him.

"Severus," she answered gingerly, "Dumbledore asked _the two of us_ to meet him. He must have a reason or he could have come right here."

"I thought we were here to see to your safety."

"We'll take care of ourselves," Lily said, smiling. "We will be with _Dumbledore_ anyway."

"Yes," Potter interposed, "it should be safe and boring. Hurry up, Lily."

Snape gazed after her, and that was the moment that the little devil chose to get hold of the spoon, grinning happily. Snape was annoyed, but the brat dug into the bowl, and soon a heaped spoon of baby food was tentatively approaching the little face from which Lily's eyes were shining back at Snape.

"Why did Dumbledore send an _owl_?" Snape asked Black.

"Odd, isn't it?" Black shrugged. "He usually sends his Patronus to Order members with short messages."

"Don't you want some help?" Snape murmured clumsily to the kid, seeing the unidentified substance spread all over his cheeks.

The brat apparently enjoyed "eating" on his own, which could only mean that he was not very hungry any more. At this rate, breakfast would last forever, so Snape Summoned a teaspoon, and began shovelling at least a part of the remaining food into Harry's open mouth, trying to lean away in time whenever a mouthful of it came back in his direction.

He heard Lily and Potter close the front door, and his uneasiness increased.

At least the task was finally completed now, and nothing else remained but for Snape to clear up the mess and for Harry Potter to... well, at this point, Snape realized that his self-confidence was rapidly shrinking.

"Peek-a-boo!" Black shouted right next to the high-chair, taking off the Cloak.

"Are you feeling left out?" Snape asked Black with mock concern.

"I thought I'd cheer him up," Black replied defiantly. "I'm his godfather."

Snape's lips slowly curled up.

"Well, well, how could Lily forget?" he said, lifting the child out of the chair. "As compensation," - he hurriedly placed the youngest Potter into the proud godfather's arms - "you may change his nappy."

Lupin, hiding now behind the same copy of the Daily Prophet that Snape had been reading, let out a cough which might have been laughter, but he was much less gleeful a few seconds later, when Black's voice roared all over the house.

"MOONY! Could you come upstairs, please?"

"Someone needs help," Snape smirked, but as soon as Lupin was gone, he began to examine Dumbledore's letter more thoroughly.

Suddenly he knew what was wrong, and the realization made him jump.

He did not waste time informing Black and Lupin. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, which Black had left on a chair, and donned it. If everything was all right, he would be back in a few minutes. No one would see him and no one would notice his absence.

He Apparated just outside a dilapidated pub, its wall decorated with the ugly picture of a dragon, breathing fire. The door opened, and a haggard-faced wizard came out, giving Snape a chance to slip inside.

The pub was almost empty, but it was the kind of place which would get crowded in the evening only. Potter and Lily were sitting at a table, two goblets of butterbeer in front of them. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight, a fact that confirmed Snape's suspicion. He was just realizing that they should have sent a message back to Dumbledore - but it seemed too late now.

He could tell Lily was feeling rather uncomfortable, which he understood perfectly. The place was definitely not for women like her.

"He is not usually late," she said.

"He must be busy," replied Potter, tasting his butterbeer.

He grimaced.

"They used to sell better drinks here."

"So why is he meeting us then?" Lily asked tensely.

"We'll find out, don't worry."

Potter swallowed another large gulp of beer.

"This place frightens me," Lily said. "Have you been here many times?"

"Once or twice," grinned Potter. "We popped into this pub on my stag night as well, when Padfoot invited these girls, who -"

"Spare me the details of your stag night now!" Lily snapped irritably.

Potter chuckled.

"To tell you the truth, I would love to find out certain details myself, because I don't remember everything, but Padfoot won't tell me."

Perhaps it would have been a good idea for Snape to watch over the Potters from a distance, but the spot where he was standing allowed him to observe almost the whole room from the door to the barman, and his back was safely against a wall so that no one could bump into him from behind.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Lily asked sharply.

"No," replied Potter truthfully.

He leaned closer to her.

"I hope Dumbledore will answer my question this time. You know which."

Lily was tapping her fingers nervously on the table.

"How could he tell why that madman wanted to ... k- kill Harry?"

"I had the impression that he knew. What is more, Snape knows it as well. Do you remember what he was telling Voldemort yesterday?"

"He was only trying to buy time for us," said Lily. "He was as desperate as I was."

"Voldemort did not think he was talking all nonsense. Listen, if Snape knew any of Voldemort's secrets, he must have told them to Dumbledore. If he is loyal to Dumbledore..."

"Of course, he is! Just think about it, James ... Where would we have been without him these past few days?"

Potter tensed a little; then swallowed, and grinned again.

"Yes, I'm quite happy that I saved him from Moony, healed his leg and rescued him from his own trap. It was well worthwhile. After all I _had_ saved him from Moony's bite at school, too."

"From Moony's - ... what?" Lily gasped.

"Moony almost attacked him," Potter explained. "Padfoot tricked Snape into going down the tunnel under the Whomping Willow, and Moony was there already transformed. But I ran after him and dragged him out of the tunnel before Moony quite reached him. In a way, it was rather funny, but it was terribly dangerous, too. Luckily, Dumbledore agreed to hush it up, otherwise Padfoot and Moony would have been in big trouble."

"Dumbledore _knew_?"

"Yes, but he did not want to have Moony exposed as a werewolf, since the prank was Padfoot's fault alone. Both Padfoot and Snape got detention. Dumbledore was very pleased with _me_ though. Exceptional Gryffindor bravery to save a Slytherin and all."

"But you ran with Moony every month!"

"Well, yes, but Dumbledore knew nothing about it, did he?"

"But this is horrible!" Lily raised her voice. "What was Sirius thinking? Sev could have died or become a werewolf himself! Remus would have been devastated!"

"Ruined, probably," Potter answered, after drinking again. "That is why we kept it all secret. Dumbledore made Snape promise that he would not mention Moony's condition to anyone."

Snape was clenching his fists under the Invisibility Cloak. He still remembered some of his dreams after that night; he still remembered how he had been laughed at by his roommates when he had woken up from a nightmare with a terrified cry, sweating and shaking; he still remembered how he had longed to share the burden of the memory with someone who could perhaps sympathize with him. Being ordered to be silent had only made this longing worse.

Lily took a sip of her drink; then pushed the goblet away.

"This tastes foul!"

"You don't have to drink it," said Potter, shrugging.

"You know," said Lily, gazing into the distance, "I think I could easily have fallen in love with Sev back then if he had not -"

With a sudden movement, Potter knocked over his goblet. Snape might have been Petrified under the Cloak.

"If he had not been a greasy-haired git?" Potter spat.

Lily's countenance became stern for a moment.

"If he had not been drawn to those dark things."

"Why are you telling me this now?" asked Potter.

"I don't know," Lily answered dreamily. "This is the first time I have felt a need to tell anyone."

She absent-mindedly lifted her goblet to her mouth again, and gave a shudder. Snape was staring at her so intently that it was unbelievable she could not sense it.

"How do you know you _could have_ fallen in love with him? Come on, Lily, you were the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, what chance would a loser like him have had with you, no matter what?"

"I know," Lily sighed, "no one liked him. I was probably the only girl who ever noticed his deep black eyes."

Lily's cheeks turned pink, but she continued nevertheless.

"You see, I had dreams about two boys only. One was you. The other one was Severus. I dreamed about him a lot after breaking up with him ... after he had said that word to me. I think I missed him ... and I was very angry with him. In one of those dreams, Severus and I were in -"

"This may not be the best time to share your dreams with me," Potter said quickly, nervous astonishment on his face.

Lily swallowed hard.

"You asked me how I know... Well, even in our seventh year, I was quite glad that you stopped hexing him."

"But you were not friends then," Potter said a little surprised.

"No," said Lily, "but I would have hated to see him being attacked by you again. I am quite certain that I would not have defended him, but it would have made me feel bad. It was ... noble of you."

"For your sake," said Potter in a softer voice, "of course, I made sure you did not have to _see_ me hex him, so I -"

"You mean you still -" Lily whispered.

"Why, yes," Potter answered. "I thought you could guess what was going on behind the scenes."

"No, I could not," Lily's voice was ice-cold. "I was convinced you had given it up for my sake. I admired you for it."

"Girls don't understand how these things work between boys," Potter muttered. "You can't just stop it."

Lily was glaring at her husband, lips thin.

Potter reached across the table and took her hand in both his hands. Reluctantly, she consented.

"We all survived that horrible attack yesterday," he said quietly. "Voldemort is gone. We have Harry. Shall we start quarrelling now because of the past? I love you."

"James," said Lily slowly, "do you know what I would like? I would like you and Severus to be friends. I realize it is not easy, but Severus and I have lately grown so close to each other that I ... I have come to regard him as a part of my family."

Potter gaped at her.

"Do you need me to point out the reason why it is impossible?"

Lily closed her eyes for a moment.

"I know the reason. It is years and years of enmity... You should talk to him about it."

"_I_?" Potter asked defensively. "I admit there is more to him than meets the eye, but should _I_ talk to _him_? Did _I_ end up a Death Eater?"

"Yes, _you_ must talk to him because _he_ is not going to talk to you... and I cannot tell him to. But it is my wish and you have just said you love me."

Snape, just like the Potters, noticed a little late that the barman was going towards the couple. He almost walked into Snape. He was a fat, middle-aged man with an asymmetric face and blank, unfocused eyes, which would have been enough to put Snape on his guard even without his initial suspicions.

"Are you waiting for Professor Dumbledore?" the barman asked, wiping the table with a dirty cloth.

When Potter nodded, he indicated a wooden staircase by the opposite wall.

"He is expecting you up there. The last room on your left."

Lily and Potter rose and walked towards the stairs. Snape lingered just long enough to watch the barman put away the goblets before hurrying after them.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**Can you guess what was going on in the _Dragon's Fire_****? :-)**

**The number of reviews for this story has reached three digits. That is a record for me, so let me grab this opportunity to thank all those who take the time to not only read but to review, comment or encourage this story/author. Writing would not be the same enjoyment without you.**

**For totalreadr: I would answer your comments but I don't like using the space provided for the story to discuss theories and approaches. I'd prefer to use the review reply function. **


	18. Desperate Death Eaters

Disclaimer: The HP world is the property of J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 18**

_Desperate Death Eaters_

The stairs were creaking, and Snape had to be very careful to avoid revealing his presence, therefore he walked slowly and was lagging way behind when Lily and Potter reached the last room upstairs.

He saw the door open and close behind them, and he hastened his steps. He did not hesitate. Unpleasant as it might be to break the door down when Dumbledore was inside, Snape was beyond such considerations. He was already convinced that Lily and her husband were not meeting the Headmaster of Hogwarts in that room. He pointed his wand at the door, which obediently opened to him.

His eyes also opened wide. Inside, there was nothing else but a completely empty room. He saw neither Lily, nor Potter, no one at all. There were no doors leading out of the room. Even the window was barred.

Now Snape was truly worried. If Lily and Potter had been taken away from the pub, they could be anywhere. He knew that most buildings belonging to the magical community were protected against Apparition - but could the Dragon's Fire be an exception? Even though he hated the idea of further delay, he had to test this possibility. He screwed up his face in concentration. Nothing happened. It seemed Apparition was impossible, just as one could expect it to be.

A Portkey then? How difficult would it be to make Lily and Potter unwittingly touch the same Portkey at the same time? He waved his wand around, trying to detect the magical traces left by a recently used Portkey. Nothing.

So perhaps they were not very far away yet. There must be a secret, magical exit somewhere, invisible to the naked eye, and he had to find it. He tried to walk across the walls at random places, in case the exit was similar to the barrier at King's Cross. No success. As the minutes went by, Snape was getting desperate. Why had he let them go ahead of him instead of keeping close at their heels? He took a deep breath and tried _running_ into the wall. It remained hard and solid, and Snape received a nasty knock, but he did not care. Still, he almost shouted out, not because of the pain, but because he suddenly remembered the solution. Of course! The Blue Stone ... It had been a wise decision not to let it lie around Black's house but to keep it in his robes instead.

He peered through the stone. The walls were smooth and even. There were no openings on the ceiling either. He turned the Blue Stone towards the floor, and at last he glimpsed the outlines of a magically concealed trapdoor. He crouched down, and the trapdoor became transparent. Snape saw a long, dim stairway leading to what looked like a wine cellar under the pub, reaching far away underground. That was the only way to go on.

"Alohomora," he whispered to the trapdoor, which opened at once. He began climbing downwards as silently as he could, watching out for movements and sounds below. Although he was invisible, the opening and closing of the trapdoor was not entirely noiseless.

No sooner had he reached the bottom of the stairs than he saw the approaching light of a wand moving past long lines of wine barrels, as someone was undoubtedly coming to check the origin of the noise. Snape stood still, melting into the wall and holding his breath.

* * * * *

In a torch-illuminated spot in the winding cellar, Lily was lying on the floor, bound by tight ropes cutting deep into her limbs, facing a wand held by a black-clad figure, whose head (with the exception of the dark, hostile eyes) was completely covered by a hood, and who talked to her in a woman's voice sounding frighteningly familiar. A few steps away, James was in a similarly alarming position, kept bound and held at wandpoint by another faceless Death Eater. Lily was badly bruised after having been tossed down the stairs, and she did not doubt that James, who had put up considerable resistance and received several hexes in retaliation, was hurt even more. There were four of the Death Eaters, all of them hooded, although two, for the moment, remained in the murky background.

"Where is the Dark Lord?" the dark-eyed witch asked Lily.

"I don't know," she said.

"Is he alive?"

"Dumbledore says he is alive but lost his power," she moaned, as the wand roughly touched her skin.

It was strange that she had not even considered anything else but telling the complete truth.

"Were you there when this happened?"

The fury was palpable in the witch's icy voice.

"Yes," Lily whispered. "He wanted to kill Harry, but I did not let him. There was a green light ... and I don't remember more. When I came to, he was gone."

"Your turn," hissed the woman to the Death Eater standing over James.

"What happened after the green light?" the male Death Eater snarled at his captive.

"I did not see it," said James. "Dumbledore says the Killing Curse that Voldemort cast rebounded-"

"How dare you foul his name with your filthy blood-traitor mouth!" shrieked the Death Eater witch, directing her wand at James. "Crucio!"

James was silent for a while, but then he gave a terrible, long cry of pain. Lily tried to kick towards the woman, but she did not even notice.

"Serves you right," the witch said, lifting the curse.

"Was Dumbledore with you?" the wizard asked James.

"He came only .... when it was all ... over," said James with a groan.

Lily was fighting back tears.

"How did Dumbledore know that the Dark Lord had lost his power if you could not tell him?"

"I don't know."

"Who else was there with you?"

"Friends ... members of the ... Order of the Phoenix," James replied.

"Names?"

"Sirius Black ... Remus Lupin ... Severus Snape... No one else."

The hooded wizard and the hooded witch exchanged a look.

"Where is the Dark Lord?"

The Death Eater's wand seemed to be surveying the victim's body.

"No idea..."

"How could we know?" shouted Lily. "Why do you think we know where he went?"

"Liars!" shrieked the woman hysterically. "But I will find out the truth!"

"They cannot lie," said the man with a nervous blink.

"They can," snapped the woman, "if that pig-faced barman messed up the drinks! The Imperius Curse is no cure for stupidity! - Anyway...," all of a sudden her voice changed into purring, full of insane delight, "a mudblood and a blood traitor... it will not hurt to test them a little more... Or maybe it _will_ ..."

Lily let out a piercing scream as the Cruciatus Curse hit her.

"Well?" said the insane voice, "does that refresh your memories?"

"Leave her alone!" James bellowed. "Torture me, not her, you cowardly scum, you-"

"The more the merrier," said the hooded wizard acidly, and both Lily and James screamed.

But, Lily felt the excruciating pain cease almost immediately, as the Death Eater woman turned around to glare at another hooded figure, who had just emerged behind her back.

"What?" she asked.

"Everything is all right over there," whispered the other one. "I've just checked."

"You can speak up, Barty, no one will hear us," she said irritably. "I told you to stay near the entrance and keep watch. Or did you get cold feet?"

The Death Eater called Barty shook his head. He seemed to gaze at Lily for a long moment. The female Death Eater turned back to her.

"Where is the Dark Lord?"

Lily heard James uttering intermittent cries of agony, and her cheeks were wet with tears. She should have told her a lie, anything. She should have told her You-Know-Who had been captured by the aurors. Let her go to the Ministry or to Azkaban. But Lily had to answer the truth.

"I don't know," she panted. "I swear... Please, stop this!"

"Let's try again," said the woman, lifting her wand.

"Do you need any assistance with her?" asked the fourth Death Eater, who was helping himself to a few gulps of the wine stored in the cellar. "I want to have some fun, too."

His tone made Lily's blood freeze. James was howling.

"Later, Rabastan," said the witch. "And don't get yourself drunk."

Rabastan turned back to the barrel, and Lily braced herself for the next round of pains, but it never came. Instead, her torturer unexpectedly collapsed against the wall, hitting her head so hard that Lily thought it impossible that she would survive. A second later, the light of the torch went out, and Lily saw nothing else but flashes of spells in the darkness accompanied by shouts and thumps.

If she was about to begin nurturing a wild hope that some aurors had discovered them or that Dumbledore had come to meet them after all, this hope vanished when the torch was lit again, and she saw no one who could be regarded as a rescuer. She carefully raised her head and peered into the semi-darkness.

The wizard who had been torturing James had apparently fallen across his victim's legs, while the witch was either dead or still unconscious. James was silent. There was another dark shape on the floor, lying flat on his hooded face in a pool of red wine, but the Death Eater called Barty was still standing. Lily was astonished to see him conjure strong ropes, which promptly bound the three other Death Eaters. Ha also collected their wands, and then he stepped beside Lily, directing his wand at her.

"No..." James panted. "Don't ... hurt her!"

James struggled to drag himself closer to them, but the wizard standing by Lily did not heed him. A flick of his wand, and the ropes fell off her. Lily was numb with fear. What was the dark wizard going to do? He bent over her, took her trembling hands, and helped Lily sit up; then he left her and walked over to James. He did not notice that something had fallen out of his pocket, landing noiselessly in her lap, making the tears return into her eyes.

After freeing James, who raised himself into a sitting position with great difficulty, the wizard searched the unconscious witch's robes, found the two wands belonging to Lily and James, and gave them both to Lily.

"Go," he whispered, gently making her stand up. "Run."

"Who are you?" James asked in a faint voice, sitting with his back against a wine barrel.

Black eyes flashed behind the hood, as the wizard turned towards James and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Hurry up," he said in a hoarse, muffled voice. "Out of here, quickly."

Lily slipped the Blue Stone into her pocket, and staggered ahead, feeling weak.

"Stop that, you fool," she said, half-crying with emotion. "Don't we deserve to see your face any more?"

She hugged him, but Snape did not return the hug. He silently admitted now that the idea of keeping his disguise and never letting Lily know that _he_ had been in the pub with them was plain ludicrous - although that was the main reason why he had decided to change the Invisibility Cloak into Death Eater robes in the first place. He took off his hood.

"You keep popping up when there is trouble, don't you?" Potter muttered, looking nauseous. "I wonder how you do it."

"An innate talent, I guess," said Snape coldly. "I do hope you will forgive me for putting an untimely end to this little party in your honour."

Potter let the remark pass.

"What are you going to do with these?" He indicated the captured Death Eaters.

"Are there only three of them here?" Lily asked somewhat anxiously.

"Four," said Snape. "Only these four, no more; and they are all safe now."

"But the fourth one was you!"

"Only for a few minutes," Snape said. "I do not usually wear this uniform. Not any more."

He took off the borrowed attire, under which he was wearing his own robes. He had been quite sure he would never be dressed in Death Eater uniform again.

"The rightful owner," he said, throwing the hooded robes onto the floor, "is waiting for his friends by the entrance. I had a chat with him, and I believe there are no more of them here."

"I shudder to think how long they would have kept torturing us," said Lily, "if you had not come. Severus ... I don't know how to thank you... How did you know we needed help?"

"In that letter," said Snape slowly, "Dumbledore's hand-writing was imitated, but it was not written by Dumbledore at all."

"Clearly not," Potter muttered with a sigh. "How did you find it out?"

"Lately, I have had numerous opportunities to see his signature," Snape explained. "When he uses his full name - on official documents, for example, - it is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Yes, we know that," said Potter vaguely.

"Your letter," Snape said calmly, "bears the signature A. P. _B. W_. Dumbledore."

"And you started to look for us when you discovered _that _mistake?" Lily whispered; her eyes huge.

"Obviously," Snape answered. "It seemed reasonable to suppose that the real Dumbledore would not mix up his initials."

Lily sent a meaningful glance towards her husband.

"And how did you find us here?"

Snape wished he had changed the direction of the conversation in time.

"I ... followed you," he grunted, looking away.

"But -"

Lily broke off, as Snape reached into one of his pockets, took out the Invisibility Cloak, and flung it in front of Potter.

"There."

"So you had ...," Potter gulped, picking up the Cloak, "come after us before we went up the stairs."

He stared at Lily.

"I'm afraid so," said Snape as nonchalantly as he could.

From the corner of his eye, Snape saw Lily's cheeks becoming as fiery as her hair. Potter was apparently struggling for words.

"Are you both ready to leave?" Snape asked, changing the topic at last. "We must also do something about our prisoners."

"Are they alive?" she asked, glancing at the dark witch.

"Most probably," Snape answered grimly. "It is a tough lot."

"Then let the aurors deal with them."

While they were talking, Potter made an attempt to get to his feet, but in the end, he fell back, clutching his head.

Lily bent over him, worried.

"What's the matter?"

White as chalk, Potter opened his mouth to answer, but he threw up instead.

"It is the Cruciatus Curse... what did that murderer do to you?" Lily's voice quavered. She put her fingers on Potter's arm. "Let me help you..."

She took her wand into her hand.

Snape was waiting silently while Lily was tending to Potter, but when Potter tried to stand up again, supported by Lily, he stepped closer to help.

"I can't get up," Potter groaned, looking frightened.

Lily reached out to feel his legs, but Potter stopped her.

"I am not hurt. Only ... everything begins to reel around me when I try to stand. I keep losing my balance. That Death Eater ... knew what he was doing."

"We'll wait then," said Snape, catching Lily's anguished glance. "He'll be all right."

Potter winced, and he gaped at Snape for a long time.

"You are," he croaked finally, "still the same sneaky Slytherin snake in the grass, Snape."

"James," said Lily in a tone of warning, as Snape paled with anger, but Potter rambled on.

"Reading my letter. Borrowing my Invisibility Cloak without my permission. Tailing me and my wife. I would _never_ have thought it but now I ...," Potter spat out the words as though they were hot embers burning his lips, "I ... cannot tell you how ... grateful ...I am to ... you ... for all of these. You may not care for my thanks, but I know when I'm ... indebted."

His right arm made a movement as though reaching out for Snape's hand, but the impulse lost its force and Potter's hand fell back with a thud.

"I think this last part is what he really means," said Lily, eyeing her husband with disquiet.

Exhausted now, Potter buried his face into his palms, perhaps wishing he could take back what he had just said. Snape had never seen him so confused and shocked before.

"In vino veritas," said Snape, staring at Potter stern and unmoved, "but butterbeer and truth potions are a treacherous combination. In some cases, when the effect of this particular potion wears off in the alcohol-influenced mind, reactions similar to those induced by Babbling Beverage can be observed. The condition is not permanent."

"I did not recognize the truth potion," Lily breathed shyly.

Snape watched her, slightly amused.

"It is because you have never spoiled your Veritaserum in your life."

"It is because she is too decent to cook up glop like that," said a gruff voice.

"Nonsense, Potter," said Snape. "She had to make Veritaserum for her NEWT level Potions course more than once, and she always brewed it perfectly."

"What about spoiled Veritaserum?" Lily asked.

"If the potion is tolerably well prepared," Snape explained, "and is spoiled in the last stage of brewing only, it can usually be saved, although the result will not be Veritaserum, but a somewhat less powerful potion called _The Bitter Truth_."

"The _Bitter_ Truth?"

"Unlike Veritaserum," said Snape, "this potion has a characteristic repugnant taste."

"It was ... _indeed_ bitter," Lily agreed quietly.

She gazed almost wistfully at Snape; then she reached for Potter.

"Come, hold on to me," she said. "We'll get you to a healer and you will soon be fine again."

Snape and Lily both took Potter by the arm. But lifting him into a standing position was one thing, making him walk or just stand steadily was a completely different matter. In the end, Lily sent her Patronus to Black with a message.

Black arrived ten minutes later, although he had had an argument with the barman, who had refused to let him go into the wine cellar. Snape stayed with the captives while Black and Lily were taking Potter back to the house. Since it would have been difficult for one person to transport all four Death Eaters at the same time, Snape waited until Black came back. He made sure the Death Eaters remained unconscious; yet, when Bellatrix stirred, he could not resist.

"You know, Bella," he whispered to her silkily, removing her hood, "I have learned something from you at last. Now I could successfully ... _do it_ ... if I tried. I can perfectly feel what it is like to _mean_ it. I hope you understand what I'm talking about."

She snarled at him derisively as she recognized her captor.

"Then why don't you do it, Snape? Why don't you prove that you can kill if you want to?"

She broke into mad laughter.

"It would be too dirty a job for my taste," Snape sneered. "You belong to the aurors."

"Look who is talking ... Did you hear what Dumbledore said?" Bellatrix hissed. "The Dark Lord will return. And I will be waiting for him as his most loyal follower..."

"In Azkaban," said Snape.

"He will return!" Bellatrix cried out shrilly. "Nothing else matters!"

"Enough!" Snape snapped, flicking his wand.

He walked away from her. Whatever Bella and Dumbledore said about the Dark Lord's return, at the moment, for once, he was quite pleased with himself. In spite of that, he had to realize he must have been a complete idiot in the past in some respects at least. He had never thought that Lily could have fallen in _love_ with him if the conditions she had set for her _friendship_ had been met. It was still rather difficult to believe. He used to be convinced that he would have to do something particularly impressive to win her admiration and her real love - love that was more than friendship. Of course, what he had actually done could not impress her at all, and now - he had already missed that boat.

Luckily, Black soon reappeared, and Snape's attention was directed towards more practical matters.

"I have called the aurors," said Black. "They will come to my house later today."

He snorted when he saw Bellatrix, and he turned around Rodolphus's limp body with a kick.

"Just you wait until I have a talk with both of you," he said menacingly. "Just you wait."

He glanced at Snape.

"I'll take these two. You can take Rabastan and - who is the fourth one?"

"I don't know him," Snape shrugged. "He must be a new recruit, younger than me. Some pure-blood spawn, if you ask me, otherwise your dear cousin would not be hanging out with him."

Together they Apparated the Death Eaters to Black's house and locked them up safely.

"How is Prongs?" Black asked Lupin anxiously.

"I don't know," Lupin answered. "They are all in their bedroom. Immediately they arrived, little Harry wanted to go to his mother. He was sleepy, I think. But James looked so ill... I hope the healer will shortly come."

The healer arrived and spent a long time with Potter before leaving again. By the time Lily emerged from their room, Black, Lupin and Snape had successfully rustled up some lunch for all of them, except Harry. (None of them felt competent enough at preparing baby food.)

"James still can't get up," she said with an exhausted sigh. "The healer gave him a sleeping potion. When he has rested a little, he must be taken to St. Mungo's."

"I will kill that scoundrel," Black growled under his breath. "If anything serious happens to Prongs, I'll break into Azkaban if need be, and strangle that sadistic murderer myself."

When little Harry woke up, Lily fed him, and afterwards she withdrew to the Potter-room to take a short nap, while Snape, Lupin and Black were watching over the child. There was an air of anxiety hanging over the house, infecting all of them. Black was morose, Lupin was silent, the child was fretful, and Snape wished the aurors were coming at last to take away the Death Eaters, whose mere presence in the same house where Lily was found seemed appalling.

They did not have to wait too long for that, however. Three aurors arrived, and Snape recognized one of them as the auror who, hardly more than a day before, had asked him to remove the traps that had caught Avery, Mulciber and the three prison guards. Black led them to the Death Eaters; but soon he came back to the others.

"The aurors want to talk to us and to Lily and James," he murmured.

"I'll be with Harry then," said Lupin, and took the child out of the living room.

Black sat down and ruffled his hair nervously.

"I can't believe it. The fourth Death Eater -"

"Anyone you know?" Snape asked. "Yet another Order member perhaps?"

"It is Barty Crouch!"

"Crouch? Is that some stupid joke again?"

"Barty Crouch Junior," Black explained. "Old Barty's son. He must be just barely out of Hogwarts."

"Are you positive about that?"

"I knew him at school." Black shook his head. "First Peter betrays us and now - our top dark-wizard-hunter's son turns out to be a Death Eater! His father is not going to be pleased."

Black's expression suddenly darkened.

"But I don't care who his father is. If he helped those merciless monsters, he deserves the Dementors."

Leading the bound prisoners, the somewhat disconcerted aurors, who had just arrested their boss's son, reappeared in the living room. Bellatrix was loudly cursing at everyone in sight, but her husband and her brother-in-law were conspicuously quiet. Barty Crouch's eyes were red as though he had been crying.

The auror whom Snape had met before began questioning the two of them, while one of his colleagues went upstairs to hear the Potters' evidence. When Snape and Black had explained everything they knew, the auror glanced into his notes.

"Can you give me your names once again?" he asked.

"Sirius Black."

"Severus Snape."

The auror rose from his seat, staring at Snape hard.

"Your wand, please," he said, holding out his hand.

Snape did not understand.

"My wand?"

The auror nodded, and Snape, utterly puzzled, handed his wand to him. The auror put it away.

"You are under arrest," said the auror, avoiding Snape's gaze. "You must come with me."

The world spun around Snape. Black gaped at him in bewilderment.

"What did I do?" Snape asked, feeling tension and fury building up in him.

"A warrant has been issued against you," the auror replied, "as a Death Eater and a fugitive from justice."

"Wait a minute," said Black. "The Death Eaters are over there."

He pointed at the dark group guarded by the third auror. Bellatrix was giggling aloud.

"Snape caught them for you! He fought with us against Voldemort! You can't arrest him!"

"I can and I must," said the auror. "All aurors have received orders to arrest him wherever they find him. Your _friend_," he continued, eyeing Black's wand with apparent suspicion, "confessed weeks ago to having been You-Know-Who's follower."

"Then why are you arresting him _now_?"

"Severus Snape was permitted to stay free while waiting for his hearing under the supervision of an auror and on the condition that he would be available when he was needed. His failure to show up at the hearing today automatically resulted in the arrest warrant."

Snape's mouth opened and closed without his knowledge.

"The _hearing_?" Black asked, equally amazed. He cast a quick glance at Snape. "You had a hearing today?"

"I ...," Snape was shaking his head, "did not know."

"The Ministry sent you an owl yesterday," said the auror. "Since you had already received preferential treatment, we had the right to summon you at 8 hours' notice."

"Did you receive that letter?" Black asked Snape.

"I did," Snape answered, stricken by a sudden realization. "But ... I forgot to -."

He stopped, knowing how stupid it would sound now. He _had_ received the letter. He just had not read it. The unopened envelope was probably still in a pocket of the robes he had been wearing the day before. The auror's expression was strict, and he was speaking fast as though he was reciting a lesson learned by heart.

"A defendant must appear in front of the Wizengamot at the time specified in his summons unless prevented by circumstances beyond his control. In that event, he is required by law to contact the Ministry without delay, stating the reason for his absence and giving the exact address where he can be found. He must also submit, if applicable, any documents (such as a medical certificate) supporting his statement. Furthermore, he must personally report to the Auror Headquarters at the earliest opportunity and without waiting for another summons."

"It is quite obvious that he did not want to run away," said Black fiercely to the auror. "Can you understand that?"

"My orders are clear. You must come with us," said the auror to Snape. "You may address your questions, comments and objections to the Wizengamot."

Snape contemplated the idea of resistance for a moment only. For better or worse, he had already surrendered his wand, and he did not expect Black or anyone else to stand up for him against the aurors. Such an act would make them the accomplices of a runaway Death Eater under wizarding law, and who would want that? Besides, he did have a few words to say in his own defence, and openly defying the authorities was likely to be counterproductive.

"I will," he said, and he successfully disciplined his features into a fathomless mask.

Yet, he was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. After all, his fairly reasonable hopes for acquittal notwithstanding, it was a bitter humiliation to be arrested and taken away along with the Death Eaters he had captured, along with the ones who had tortured Lily.


	19. Azkaban

Disclaimer: The characters and other things are owned by J.K. Rowling.

**_Warning: This is a gloomy chapter, but I promise that the next one will be more cheerful._**

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 19**

_Azkaban_

"They must release you," Black said hurriedly. "We will tell Dumbledore ... I'll call the others -"

"No!" snapped Snape with such fierceness that Black recoiled. "Wait until I'm gone."

But his desperate wish to be able to leave before any more of the residents of Black's house could see him was left unfulfilled. Lily came downstairs just in time to remain rooted to the spot as Snape was led away, handcuffed to an auror, exactly like the Death Eaters.

One auror was leading the still cursing Bellatrix, who was easily identified as the most dangerous of the prisoners; another one was leading Rodolphus and Rabastan; while the third one was in charge of Barty Crouch and Snape. Crouch began shouting, demanding that he should be taken to his father at once and threatening to have the aurors fired, but they did not respond to him. Pressing his lips firmly together, Snape remained dourly silent, though he was assailed by stress and anger, increased by Crouch's cries, which were muted only when they finally Disapparated from a narrow cul-de-sac nearby.

The Disapparition lasted quite long, and Snape knew that they were not going to the Ministry, but somewhere considerably further away. When he could look around again, they were standing in front of a shabby, grey, two-storey building, surrounded by a few smaller ones. The place looked like the frontier between civilization and wilderness in a chilly climate, smelling of gloom and decay, an atmosphere reminiscent of Snape's childhood environment, except much more pronounced.

The aurors led them into the building, referred to as "_The Terminal_", and from what followed, it appeared that it was the last auror station before Azkaban, situated on one of the islands of the North Sea. Beyond that, there were only prisoners and Dementors - and their intended destination. On their way, Snape could glimpse several _Dementor barriers_ - magical devices to keep away the dark creatures.

The prisoners were handed over to the local aurors, austere, unsmiling people, who recorded their personal data, searched them for magical items and made them change into numbered Azkaban uniforms, very thick, heavy and rough woollen robes (which could only be needed in an extremely cold place) complete with similarly warm, if coarse, underwear. All personal items had to be left behind in storage.

Apparition must have been impossible from that point on, because the local aurors ordered them to mount broomsticks, which were chained to their own, as the prisoners' wrists were chained to the aurors' wrists as well. Not surprisingly, the broomsticks used by the prisoners were slower than the aurors', meaning that it was rather tiring for them to keep pace. The Death Eaters complained loudly - they were much less eager to reach their final destination than the aurors, who probably wished they were already coming back.

It was evident that the aurors, too, detested the idea of a journey to Azkaban, and they did not shrink from brandishing their wands at the _reasons_ why they had to go there if the _reasons_ dared impede the trip.

Snape did not complain. He had not spoken a word without being asked since they had left Black's house, and was currently making all the necessary effort to keep up with the aurors. Sharp gusts of wind shook the broomsticks every now and then, penetrating even the thick uniforms. It would have been a desperate situation if he had not been able to continually remind himself that it could not last long, that he would soon travel back to the Ministry, where he would explain himself to the Wizengamot.

Azkaban was a towering, forbidding fortress on a tiny island besieged by cold, stormy waves, with barred holes functioning as windows. Unlike the Dark Lord's prison, which had been a labyrinth of long, winding corridors, the official prison of the wizarding community was a needle-like structure, shrouded in fog and battered by howling winds in every season.

They landed just outside the entrance, and when the narrow, cast-iron gate opened, Snape was instantly smitten by bone-cutting cold, as several Dementors hurried to meet them. In another minute, the prisoners were inside the fortress, left alone with the hooded monsters.

Snape was separated from the Death Eaters. That was at least good. Even the nasty conditions of the prison could have been made worse if he had been locked up with _them_. Still, it took him a great deal of self-discipline to remain silent when two Dementors grabbed him and dragged him deep into one of the most terrifying places on Earth. He submitted to the icy touch of the rotting, bony hands with an upsurge of disgust and panic. It was a true relief when, after ascending many flights of stairs, he was at last thrown into a diminutive cell, which had a door between him and the Dementors.

The cell was quite dark, too, but his eyes got used to the dim light over time, and he was able to make out the shapes around him. The only piece of furniture was a rickety bed, and there was a very small bathroom in a corner. Even so, the space left for moving around was hardly a few steps. The only light came from outside, but the actual illumination of the cell was varying between complete darkness and the subdued sunshine filtering through the fog and the barred window. Later, he realized that the degree of light depended on how close or far away the Dementors happened to be at the moment.

The temperature was changing along similar parameters, and not even the warm Azkaban robes could protect him from the numbing cold and the foggy humidity when a Dementor was lurking nearby.

The prison was characterized by uncanny silence. There were _some_ sounds: He could often hear the rattling breath of the monsters and the shouts or screams of other prisoners, which were the only sounds produced by anyone or anything alive. Despite the permanently open window, no other sounds came from outside but the whistle of the wind, the occasional patter of rain - and the endless susurration of waves, deadening at first, barely perceptible later. But there were no ships blowing their horns, no sea birds with their familiar cries, not even mosquitoes droning into his ears. Azkaban was shunned by all living creatures.

There was nothing to do, nothing to occupy his hands and mind with, unless he counted his own disconsolate thoughts, which gradually seemed to fill the limited space around him until he was enwrapped in them completely. At the end of the first day, he went to bed clinging to the hope that the nightmare would not last long and he would be free. On the second day, when no one came to even inquire about him, he found it increasingly difficult to keep this conviction alive. On the third day, he was beginning to lose his sense of time, and the idea that this was how he was going to spend the rest of his life was slowly creeping up on him.

He was alone - but he did not crave the company of anyone in the prison. The Dementors stayed out of his cell (although he could continuously feel their depressing influence), except that once a day, a Dementor appeared, bringing a plate with his daily ration of food. At the approach of the monster, Snape drew as far away from the door as he could and waited until the horrible creature glided out. The food was cold and off, accompanied by dirty and icy water; so he left it untouched. Starvation made him physically weak - but in the beginning, he was sure that it would not last long, while later, it became an almost insignificant component of a deeper, more general horror.

On his fourth day in Azkaban, he had a visitor. Everything turned abruptly pitch-black around him, indicating the presence a Dementor, and the newcomer arriving with it was veiled in darkness at first. But hardly had the door closed when the cell was brightened by a warm, dazzling light, so that it took several seconds for him to actually _see_ the tall, white-haired, white-bearded human, with the bright, silver-white phoenix floating above his head.

Two days before, he might have wanted to run to him. Now he was satisfied with merely watching the apparition. Dumbledore took a step towards him, then he waved his wand, and promptly a sofa materialized out of thin air, taking up most of the space in the cell.

"Sit down, Severus," said Dumbledore kindly.

He obeyed, beginning to feel a dawning hope marred by a tinge of disappointment. Why had Dumbledore not come to see him before; why had Dumbledore not let him know that he was not quite forgotten yet? The old man took a potion phial out of his robes and gave it to him. He opened it, and drank its contents in one large gulp, his lost strength returning to him rapidly. He did not have to ask who had brewed the potion, but Dumbledore reached into his pocket again, and produced a letter addressed to him.

"I wish," Dumbledore began slowly, "I could say that I have come to take you away from here at once. Unfortunately, it seems you will have to wait here until your trial, and I can't even tell you when it is going to be."

"I did not stay away from the hearing on purpose," Snape said, wanting to make an important point clear. "I had no idea ... I simply did not open the Ministry's letter."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Your case is more complicated now than it was due to a number of reasons. I did not come to see you earlier, because I was talking to various Ministry officials, hoping to be able to persuade them to try you as soon as possible. I did not succeed."

Snape was listening to Dumbledore with increasing chagrin, which did not escape the old wizard's attention.

"Let me explain," he said.

"The Ministry summoned you to a hearing at short notice. They had their reasons. One was Alastor Moody's illness. As you know, he was directly responsible for you to the Ministry, while you were away from Hogwarts. When the Auror Headquarters received information about his serious injuries, they realized you were without supervision. Coincidentally, the wizard featured in the Prophet's infamous interview that alerted the Ministry to your past had just been found dead, after being missing for a while."

"Who was he?" Snape asked.

"A shopkeeper in Diagon Alley," Dumbledore answered. "The Prophet tried to keep the identity of the informant secret, but it was only a question of time and means to find it out. The aurors had the means - so did I - but we all were too late. It is improbable that the poor man had anything to do with Death Eaters. They must have Imperiused him to ruin you, and then killed him for the same purpose. You see, a possible reading of his death is that it must have been in the interest of the one whose secret he had disclosed."

"But I confessed that I had been a Death Eater," said Snape. "What would be the point in murdering him after that?"

"Vengeance maybe," replied Dumbledore with a bitter smile, "or preventing him from sharing more information about you. I know you did not do it, but you have become a suspect, and that partially explains their treatment of you."

"Partially?"

"Oh, yes, there is more," Dumbledore nodded. "You know, of course, that you are accused of fleeing justice because you failed to obey your summons."

"It came in the worst moment," Snape said. "So much was happening. I forgot about it completely."

"The circumstances were extraordinary," Dumbledore admitted. "I do not blame you, Severus, at least no more than I blame myself."

Snape's head gave a sharp jerk. Why would Dumbledore blame _himself_? The old man's expression turned even more serious.

"Since I was representing you and your interests in this matter while you were taking part in the Order mission, they sent an owl to me as well. However, it arrived rather late that day, as my desk was being invaded by letters following Voldemort's disappearance. Earlier, the Ministry had issued a very brief, slightly ambiguous statement concerning the situation - they decided to be cautious rather than unreasonably optimistic since they knew so little about what had really happened. In consequence, many of those who were not satisfied with the official information turned to me as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, mistakenly believing that I was able to reveal more details to them."

Dumbledore paused, perhaps to give Snape a chance to speak, but Snape was silent, and Dumbledore continued.

"I received various inquires from the Ministry, too. The notification concerning your summons simply disappeared among many others. I confess I thought I had more urgent tasks than going through all those letters on the first day or trying to answer others' questions when I still had quite a few questions myself. As a result, I only realized that we had both missed your hearing, when Sirius informed me about your arrest."

"In short," said Snape dourly, "I am a former Death Eater, a murder suspect and a fugitive from justice."

"It is an unfortunate combination," Dumbledore replied. "In the current political climate, if you were nothing but these, you could easily find yourself locked up for an indefinite time without a trial. Luckily, there is plenty of evidence that you have been actively fighting against Voldemort. Enough to ensure a trial for you."

"Stupendous," Snape growled. "Am I expected to wait patiently now?"

"My dear Severus," Dumbledore sighed again, "I don't see how you could do anything else while you are obliged to stay here. But I still have not told you the most likely reason why they are reluctant to fix a date for your trial as yet."

"Then let's get it over with," Snape grunted.

"The last time you saved the lives but at least the sanity of Lily and James Potter," Dumbledore explained, "you captured, among others, Barty Crouch's son. Barty, as you may know, is in charge of the Death Eater trials, which have already started at the Ministry. As you can expect, he is devastated by the news about his son, although he is doing everything in his power to conceal it. He must face a difficult choice: He will either deny his son or give up entirely his ambition to become the Minister of Magic. Your trial will probably accelerate the necessity to make this choice, and I cannot say that you have particularly endeared yourself to him. But that is not all."

Dumbledore's expression made it clear that the worst news was yet to come.

"What I am telling you now is not official information. It took a great deal of persuasion and deduction on my part to obtain it. I am certain that no one in the Ministry would admit ever having alluded to anything like this. Still, I think my conclusions are reasonably well-founded. No one has ever accused Mr Crouch of corruption, and I cannot do it either. But he has certain ... friends - advisors or minions if you like - who would be quite willing to secure his political survival by clearing his son _at all costs_."

"Meaning?" Snape asked nervously.

"The information Lily, James and you gave the aurors included reference to your unexpected appearance in Death Eater robes in the company of the Death Eaters who were torturing Lily and James and who were later arrested at the same time and place as you. Technically, Lily and James did not see you take young Barty's place; therefore there is no objective proof that he did anything. This may give the defence some room in his case, but it bodes ill for you. Barty would probably have better chances if you were a convicted Death Eater at the time of his trial."

"This is madness," Snape said.

"It is, but a drowning man will clutch at a straw," said Dumbledore. "However, I only have a presentiment of _potential_ danger. I cannot predict the choice that Barty Crouch Senior will eventually make. Until he decides, we must build up the best defence that we can."

Dumbledore regarded Snape with a faint smile.

"Incidentally," he said, "the delay may be to our advantage. We have a very important witness, Alastor Moody. At the moment, he is still so ill that he cannot give evidence at all. The night after you left the island, his condition unexpectedly worsened, and he has not been able to communicate since then. He is in St. Mungo's. I hope he will recover soon."

Snape was not convinced that Moody's evidence would do him any good. Dumbledore apparently guessed his thoughts.

"Regardless of your relationship with Alastor, Severus, I have complete faith in his honesty. He will not distort the facts when he speaks in front of the Wizengamot. Aurors are very reliable witnesses. No one is allowed to lie in a court of justice, but aurors, because of their jobs, can expect extraordinarily severe punishment if caught giving false evidence in court. What is more, everyone knows how Moody hates dark magic and Death Eaters. He would be the last person on Earth to help a dark wizard in any way."

That was exactly what Snape found worrisome. Moody appeared to have such rigid, cast-iron opinions about everyone and everything that it seemed impossible that the auror might consider him anything else but a dark wizard.

"He does not believe in reformed Death Eaters," Snape muttered. "He told me so."

"Maybe," Dumbledore said earnestly. "But he still knows that you had no chance to leave the island and kill the shopkeeper while he was watching you."

Snape did not know what to answer and a heavy silence descended on them. Finally, Dumbledore rose.

"I must leave now."

Snape got to his feet, too. He was staring at Dumbledore, knowing very well that the cold and the darkness would return as the Headmaster left. Dumbledore seemed to be hesitating as though he was pondering what more to say.

"Goodbye, Severus," he said at last, and left. The phoenix, its glowing light, even the sofa, vanished with him.

It was too late that day to read Lily's letter. The light of the sun simply did not reach into the cell, although outside, in the world around the prison, it was not getting dark yet. He went to bed clutching the letter, afraid that the warm, hopeful feeling it had caused would evaporate so completely by the morning that he would not even take the trouble to read it any more.

But as soon as there was enough sunlight again, he did read her letter - though he could not help the acute cynicism lingering in the back of his mind and spoiling the meagre enjoyment he could have drawn from it.

_Dear Severus,_

_It was a real shock when the aurors arrested you, but I was sure you would be free the next day. __Professor Dumbledore did everything in his power to have you released. I cried when he told us you must stay in Azkaban for a while. I know if you had gone to that hearing, you would be a free man now, but you were only thinking about our safety. _

_I don't doubt that there will be a trial soon. You must be acquitted, don't even imagine any other possibility! _

_We__ think about you a lot. The house looks rather empty with you and James being away. James is in St. Mungo's, I visit him every day. He is still not well, but the healers say much more damage could have been done if he had been exposed to the Cruciatus Curse a little longer. Yesterday Professor McGonagall visited him. She has apparently fallen in love with Harry!_

_I hope the potion will do you good. I could have made something more effective if I had more time, but I have learned only this morning that Professor Dumbledore is going to visit you today. _

_Keep out of the path of the Dementors, and don't let them depress you! Azkaban will be needed for real Death Eaters; and you have nothing to do there! _

_Lots of love, _

_Lily_

He read the letter several times. It was an occupation at least, even though he found no real pleasure in it. Lily's lots of love reminded him of what he had lost and what had never been his; her kind optimism seemed empty, shallow and deceitful; even her tears for him were unreachably far away and could not touch him. Too little, too late, to distant. What alone gave him some comfort was the thought that it was still the lesser of two evils that was happening to him: It had been his failure to attend his hearing that had made it possible for him to save Lily from Bellatrix. But even this thought could comfort him only until it slipped away from him, sneaking quietly out of his mind and into the cold desperation all around.

He kept thinking of what Dumbledore had told him, and the more he thought of it, the more he was overwhelmed by the hopelessness of his situation. He was aware of the influence of Dementors draining him of all happy thoughts - but this knowledge did not help him.

Lily's potion allowed him to stay away from the prison food for two more days. Then he gave in - not because of the hunger, not even because of a desire to live, but because his will to resist was broken by lethargy and despair; and he came to accept that _this_ was his life and _this_ was his meal. Denial was useless and he overcame his revulsion. Eating, however, gave him no satisfaction. The Dementor-contaminated meal tasted like solidified sorrow, making him sick.

He sought refuge in sleep, but he soon realized that his nights were even more horrible than his days. As all happy thoughts were gradually leaving him, nothing more remained in his mind but a vast collection of bad memories and an overly pessimistic picture of the future. Of his memories, the ones relating to his Death Eater days were the worst, and these became his regular visitors at night.

Never before had he been haunted by the horror that he had experienced as the Dark Lord's follower as he was haunted by it now. In his sleep, he could not distinguish between what he had seen and what he had done; and shortly, the difference was lost to him even when he was awake. He did not have the strength to close down his mind, and the images that invaded his dreams - the disturbing imprints of past brutality - filled him with crushing guilt. He was tormented by remorse for everything a Death Eater had ever committed. All good memories remained elusively beyond his grasp - only his guilt was tangible reality.

When it did not seem bearable any more, he summoned some willpower to defend himself. He tried to imagine light and heat. He recalled the memory of Dumbledore's Patronus brightening up his cell. He tried to recall how the Phoenix had shone, how it had warmed him. But it reminded him that _he_ had a Patronus, too, which was just another unhappy thought now, because what was the point in having a Patronus if she did not come to him when he most needed her?

Giving up his efforts to preserve his sanity, he sank into a half-asleep, half-awake delirium; and, strangely, that was what finally brought him some relief. The light that he had not been able to effectively imagine before suddenly appeared behind his closed eyelids. It evoked the brilliance of a Patronus. Faintly, he was even feeling its warmth, as though the temperature had all of a sudden gone up. It could only be a dream or a fever, but he embraced it all the same. It drove him to have visions: Once, for example, he thought he could see his Patronus bending close, quite close to him, shining in her true shape, as he had seen her only once. The vision had a comforting, soothing effect - enough to let him drift into a real, relaxing, therapeutic sleep, without nightmares at last.


	20. A Clandestine Visit

Disclaimer: The HP world, its characters and other things belong to J. K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 20**

_A Clandestine Visit_

When he woke up, he did not know where he was, but he could feel the touch of something cool and pleasant on his forehead. He was not cold at all - in fact, he found himself snugly tucked up in a soft, warm blanket, and his surroundings were bathed in cosy, warm light.

He sat up so quickly that he felt a momentary stab of pain in his temples, but now he could take in the place properly. He was still in the prison - and yet the blanket was real and the light was real, too. The source of the latter was undoubtedly a Patronus, a silver-white bird - not Dumbledore's Phoenix, but a smaller songbird, flying around in circles, occasionally giving a cheerful trill. Snape had never heard of a singing Patronus before.

Yet, all this wondrous surprise faded into insignificance when he recognized his visitor. Once again, it was not easy to recognize her. She must have been cured completely - she was looking healthy and strong, even pretty, so that Snape instantly became both conscious and ashamed of his own woeful appearance.

"What are you doing here?"

It may not have been the most polite of greetings, but the words came to his lips on their own.

Mary did not seem to find the question rude.

"I've just dropped in to see you," she said in a tone as though she was indeed only paying an ordinary visit to a friend.

"I'm afraid the circumstances will not permit us to have a proper tea party," he said dryly. "I don't even know if it is tea time at all."

"I have seen places like this before," she replied calmly.

Of course. He had almost forgotten. He sighed, feeling the tension inside him easing slightly.

"Have you brought a message?" he asked, looking from Mary to her Patronus and back again.

"No, not a message," she said.

He gave her a quizzical look before his gaze fell on the blanket. He was able to recall some details of his illness, but not many; and it would have been hard to tell whether it was the recalled or the forgotten details that made him more uncomfortable.

"You should eat something," Mary said unexpectedly.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, glancing involuntarily at the spot where the miserable prison food had to be.

He could not tell how much time had passed since he had last eaten, but he wished the disgusting substance was not in its place for once. It was _not_ there. Mary's eyes followed his gaze.

"Don't look for _that_," she said with a slight snort. "I threw it out. I've got something better for you."

With these words, she opened a bag - a big one, made of some thick, colourful, velvety material - she waved her wand - and out came a folding table and two folding chairs, placing themselves gracefully in the middle of the cell. With another wave of her wand, a tablecloth arrived and then other things one by one. Snape's lips parted with amazement. When the table was laid, the air was soon filled with the delicious aroma of roast chicken, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and vegetables. The spectacle was topped off with a bottle of red wine.

He inhaled deeply and realized that he was hungry after all; however, it was no more the familiar tormenting sensation that had to be suppressed, but an almost delightful anticipation. It revived his dulled senses, which began a dizzying dance; yet pride dictated that he should remain composed and dignified, so he did his best to contain the ravenous wolf inside him, which wanted to attack the plate immediately.

Mary continued decorating the place, and Snape could not take his eyes off her activity. She found a small candelabrum in her bag, placed it on the table, and instantly candles were glimmering in the cell. She also produced several books and various items of everyday life from quill and parchment to a small clock, and she put them all on a shelf fixed to the wall, a shelf which Snape knew had not been there before. He also noticed the unmistakable signs of recently performed cleaning charms.

When his plate was already empty, he found his voice again.

"I suppose I must expect long-term imprisonment then."

"I have no idea when your trial will be," Mary said, sitting down next to Snape. "But you deserve some comforts even if you have to spend just one more day here."

"How did the Dementors let you bring in all these things?"

Mary shrugged.

"I did not ask their permission."

"But how did you do it?"

Mary's Patronus let out a serene call, as Mary was eyeing Snape pensively. Snape reached for the wine bottle. There were two goblets on the table.

"I did not come with the Dementors' knowledge," she said slowly. "Dumbledore, of course, was allowed to visit you, but the rest of us ordinary mortals would likely have a hard time getting permission to enter Azkaban."

Snape was pouring and pouring the wine, not noticing at once that the goblet was already full. He was staring at the girl with horror.

"Are you saying you have sneaked in secretly?"

"Yes," she said simply, raising her goblet.

"If they find you here -"

"Why would they?" she asked, glancing at her Patronus. "They cannot enter, and I will leave secretly, as I came."

Snape took a gulp of wine and shook his head.

"Don't make a fool of me. You can't just walk in and out of Azkaban at will."

"Well, I found a way," she said proudly. "Not everyone would be able to do it."

Snape was expecting some explanation to follow, but Mary did not say more, and they both were silent for a long time. In the end, Snape came out with a different question.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Coming here. Bringing me these things. Taking an enormous risk."

She seemed to hesitate before answering.

"I don't know how to explain," she began tentatively. "For weeks I was doing what _he_ - You-Know-Who - ordered me to do. I was helping him, spying on you all. Yet ... no one wants to punish _me_. You, however, fought to break that horrible prison open, where my granddad died ... You helped everyone get rid of You-Know-Who, rescued a lot of people, and _you_ have been locked up _here_."

She looked round.

"It is unjust, and I feel ... very bad about it. The only way I can help you is making your life easier here. I know how horrible it must be to endure the Dementors ... I wish I could do more."

_Guilt_. _That_ - he was able to relate to.

"The Dark Lord," he said after a long silence, "is ... or was ... very good at persuading ... _forcing_ people to do what he wanted them to do. You were forced to obey. You wanted to save your grandfather. No one blames you. You never became a Death Eater at least."

"Yes, he forced me but ..." Mary put down her goblet. "What about you? I've heard you are accused of having been his follower but perhaps -"

"No," said Snape quickly. "He did not force me. I knew what I was doing when I joined him -"

He shook his head again.

"No, that is not quite true, I'm afraid. But I was _not _trying to protect my grandfather and I was _not_ Imperiused by anyone. There is a difference."

He stared directly into her eyes as though daring her to judge him, but she remained tranquil and thoughtful.

"I was wondering that, because it seems a lot of people _were_ Imperiused. Charges are dropped against many alleged Death Eaters because they claim to have been Imperiused. Lucius Malfoy, for example."

"That is a lie," said Snape. "The Dark Lord did use the Imperius Curse, but I doubt a merely Imperiused follower could have got really close to him. Lucius was never Imperiused."

Mary gasped.

"But then genuine Death Eaters may walk free! And you -"

A twisted smile appeared on Snape's face.

"That will make them even more eager to keep a confessed Death Eater behind bars - the public must see some achievement."

"You don't suppose you could say you were Imperiused, too?" she suggested.

"No."

They both sat in silence for a minute.

"I'd much rather have Malfoy locked up," she said finally.

"Forget it," said Snape. "It is impossible to prove that someone was _not_ Imperiused."

"How can you be so calm about it?"

Snape's features hardened. He averted his gaze from her. He was not calm. Not really.

When he looked at her again, Mary's hand was raised in an odd way, but by the time he registered the sight, the hand had already fallen back.

"You know a lot about these trials," he said.

"The Prophet is full of them," Mary said.

Snape frowned.

"Besides, anyone can go and watch them. Two days ago, I did, too."

His goblet landed on the table with a loud knock. He had not yet thought of _that_ aspect of the forthcoming trial.

"Did you have fun?"

Mary seemed a little offended.

"What do you think of me? I was preparing to see you here, and I thought I might gather some information for you!"

Snape rose from his seat.

"You must have a hyperactive conscience. You needn't have taken all that trouble for me."

"_I_ did not say that," snapped Mary, "_I_ did not object when you saved me from the fire and those vipers. I don't understand why -"

"Ashwinders," Snape corrected.

"Whatever. Why could I not do something to help _you_ for a change? Had it not been for you, I would have died on the first day when I was sent to that island."

Snape gaped at her.

"On the first day? What are you talking about?"

"You probably don't remember ..." she said quietly. "In the forest, you saved a butterfly from a spider's web. I was the butterfly."

Snape could not recall the incident immediately, but after a while he remembered.

"I would never have guessed that," he murmured. "Needless to say, your disguise was perfect."

"I loathed the disguise, believe me," said Mary. "But our paths crossed every day. I saw you fight against the werewolf. It was scary."

"Scary," Snape growled, his mind full of images of a trial taking place in front of a hostile and curious audience. "You are making me paranoid. If I ever get out of here, I will be wary of all insects in case they are enchanted witches or wizards spying on me."

Mary rose, too, a faint flush tinging her cheeks.

"It is quite late," she said, clearing up the table with her wand. "As soon as it gets completely dark outside, I will leave."

Snape suddenly realized that staying alone in the cold and the darkness would be even more awful now than it had been before. But of course she had to leave. She was taking enough risk already. His eyes swept his surroundings.

"I'll help you pack these things," he offered, his moroseness quickly giving way to regret.

Mary looked perplexed.

"Don't you want to keep them?" she asked incredulously and evidently hurt.

Snape did not respond for a while; and when he did, he avoided her gaze.

"You are very kind. I must say thank you for the blanket and the food ... and the light. You must have saved me from death today. But this is a prison and there are certain ... rules. I am not allowed to keep any of these. The next time a Dementor enters -"

"No," she said, sounding strangely passionate. "No more Dementors will enter this room while you are here. I did not bring these things to show them to you and then take them away. What did you think?"

She reached into her bag once again, and took a long, narrow box out of it. She handed it to him.

"This is for you. Brand new from Ollivander's. I hope it will do until you get back the old one."

Snape was staring at her once again with wonder. She had brought him a _wand_. A weapon against Dementors. A means of invoking his Patronus. Power to defend himself. Still, he forced a stern expression on his face.

"Are you aware," he asked, "that you may easily find yourself locked into one of these cells for this?"

Her face was brightened up by a proud little smile.

"They will have to catch me first," she said with unusual self-confidence. "Do you want the wand or not?"

"I do," he said hastily, running his fingers down the wood. "I can't tell when I will be able to pay for it though."

"Very well then," she said kindly. "There is one more thing, but it is already yours."

She took a small object out of her pocket, and gave it to Snape. It was the Blue Stone.

"It would have taken me ages to find your cell without this," she explained. "Lily says it belongs to you," she added, watching him closely.

He did not remember leaving the Stone with Lily, but he was glad that it had not ended up in the depository of The Terminal.

"Does Lily know that you have come here?"

"No," she replied. "I thought it safer not to tell anyone."

"Then how did you -?"

"I met Lily in St Mungo's ... I went there for a general checkup after coming back from the island. We talked. She told me about you and the charges against you, and I told her that I was going to have to do a very thorough cleaning in my house. It had been empty for a long time, and all kinds of things - boggarts, doxies and others - had moved into the walls and the furniture. I needed something to do anyway ... Lily let me borrow this stone. She was certain you would not mind. The stone helped me find and identify the pests. It was during the cleaning that the idea of visiting you occurred to me."

Snape was turning the Blue Stone around in his hands, lost for words.

"Keep an eye on your door with it," Mary said, "in case it is not a Dementor but someone else who wants to come in."

"I don't have many visitors," he said. "Even Dumbledore has come only once."

"Sooner or later, you will have a trial," Mary said. "But you must be notified in advance, I'm sure. Just don't leave your letters unopened."

"Mary ..." he said.

Her eyes shone with some inexplicable joy.

"Yes?"

"How are you going back? You are all alone."

"I'll manage," she said. "Don't worry about me."

She opened her bag again and took out - not a broomstick as he had expected, but a small silver bell. The sky was a very dark blue now. She turned off the candles, so that her Patronus was the only light now. Snape was watching her, in vain trying to guess what her plans were.

He heard a clear, silvery sound as she rang the bell. Then she went to the window and was standing there for a while, apparently waiting.

Snape stepped closer. He could not see far - the Patronus light inside the prison did not illuminate the darkness outside, therefore he first caught a glimpse of what Mary had been waiting for when it was directly on the other side of the barred window. It was an animal: a chestnut coloured, winged horse. Mary stuck her hand out of the window and affectionately stroked the horse's head. Snape could not hide his astonishment.

"You know," she said, "I don't much care for broomsticks and I positively hated to be a butterfly, but I really love flying on horseback. I inherited this passion from my granddad. When he was young, he swore he would keep a pair of these horses as soon as he could afford it. He was not rich, and it took him many years to be able to fulfil his vow ... Now the horses are mine."

She sighed.

"They ran wild while I was in You-Know-Who's prison. But I found their bell at home and I thought perhaps they could hear the sound. They can usually hear it from quite far away, but since they had not seen either of us for more than a year, I did not have much hope ... Anyway, I rang the bell - and they came..."

Her eyes bored into Snape's.

"That was the moment when I began to believe in a future. They cured me. Until then, I had just been tormented by ... memories ... all the time. Can you imagine what it was like?"

"I can," he said with complete sincerity.

Mary was still stroking the horse.

"He was flying much faster than I could have flown on a broomstick, therefore the Dementors did not have the time to sense me approaching the prison."

"How did you get in?" Snape asked fingering the bars of the window, which would have been too small for a grown-up person to climb through even without the bars.

"I must not tell you," said Mary. "It must be a secret. I was not able to change or to banish these bars or to enlarge the hole. I had to do something ... something even more illegal. I must not tell anyone about it."

Snape scrutinized her face carefully.

"Did you use Dark Magic?"

"No," she said. "Not Dark Magic. But don't ask me any more questions. Please. I am going to leave now."

Her Patronus vanished, and it was pitch-dark night everywhere. Faintly, Snape could hear the rattling sigh of a Dementor in the distance.

"Count to a hundred," she whispered, "before lighting your wand."

Snape waited, while nothing seemed to be happening, except that the air was becoming warmer and warmer, although there was no sign of open fire. When he finally said "Lumos", and his new wand began radiating a familiar light, Mary was nowhere. He looked up at the starless sky (he had never stood by that window before, not even by daylight), but he could see nothing. Still, he remained standing there (the bars were intact), breathing in the salty, humid air of the island until a sudden drop in temperature warned him that a Dementor was approaching.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The wand worked perfectly. The doe promptly appeared, bounced around him a little as though she was expressing her happiness at seeing him, then she settled in front of the door. Through the Stone, Snape watched a Dementor slowly gliding away from the section of the prison where his cell was situated. With relief, he put the Blue Stone on the table.

It was then that he noticed Mary had apparently thought of the coming days as well. There were several plates on the table laid with a variety of foods: pies, sandwiches, pancakes, scones, butter and jam, fresh fruits, a bottle of pumpkin juice, tea in a pot. He knew he would be able to make them last quite a few days with economy and with the careful use of various multiplying, refilling and preserving charms. Thanks to Mary, he was not going to miss the horrors that the Dementors would have served him to eat and drink

The sudden increase of forbidden comforts around him, however, was also worrying. It seemed too good to last long. He sat down to think.

Mary had obviously meant well, but breaking the rules of the prison might not be an undoubtedly wise decision. On the one hand, the mere memory of the condition in which Mary had found him sent a chill of revulsion down his spine, and he realized that he would have to exercise an ascetic degree of self-denial if he was to voluntarily give himself into the power of Dementors again. On the other hand, if he was caught - if not by the Dementors then by an auror coming to check up on the prisoners - illegal possession of a wand and other items would be added to his already long list of charges. Then again, the possibility that he might die of Dementor-sickness even before being convicted by the Wizengamot was decidedly unattractive.

He could still remember the morbid fascination mingled with terror that he had felt as a mere kid, after reading some hair-raising facts about Dementors for the first time. Later, he studied the literature about them quite extensively for his Defence Against the Dark Arts class, as he had done with most of the DADA topics. Now he had to recall what he knew about them. How would the Dementors experience the magic behind the door? Would they recognize a Patronus whose light was not directly cast on them? Would they notify the aurors?

After some consideration, he concluded that the Dementors needed most of all to know that he was still there - and surely they were able to sense a human being even behind a door. They also wanted to feed on his thoughts - if they could do that, they probably would not mind that _they_ were not able to feed _him_. As long as they got what they wanted, they might not be too eager to report anomalies to their human superiors.

He raised the new wand to his temple and pulled out a disposable strand of memory. It was the memory of an unusually quiet day at home when he had been maybe eight years old and his father had been away for several days and his mother had quite changed - she was _almost_ like a real mother or at least what he had imagined a real mother should be like. It was an old memory, a rare glimpse of sunshine in a bleak childhood - he would be able to do without it now. With his wand, he placed the memory under the door of the prison cell, a bizarre offering to the Dementors in exchange for leaving the rest of his mind alone.

Ironically, using the memory for _this_ was almost like receiving help - in a very difficult situation - from his mother, the witch whose inability to properly stand up to a _Muggle_ husband had so long puzzled her son. Now he would only have to remember to give new memories to the Dementors from time to time and they would hopefully leave him alone. It was a more difficult question what he could do in case a human came to see him. Not that he had to worry about many visitors, but - unless the Ministry chose to forget about him - he would have to appear in court one day.

Finally he decided to put a silent Stealth Sensory Spell on the door, which would make his hands prickle if anyone was approaching. He also applied a Repelling Spell. He knew it could not keep away a wizard or a witch for long, but it would make them delay entering for at least a couple of minutes. If he acted quickly, that should give him enough time to vanish or to disillusion the forbidden objects and to hide his wand. He would also use the Blue Stone to check the corridors several times a day.

He guessed that an official visit by an auror would take place during regular working hours, except perhaps if something really extraordinary happened in Azkaban, requiring the urgent arrival of aurors. But nothing extraordinary ever happened in Azkaban, and what did happen was never regarded as extraordinary. Therefore he would have to be very vigilant while the day lasted, but in the evenings and at night, he would be able to relax. Consequently, preserving his sense of time would be essential now.

The clock Mary had brought him proved very useful. It helped him organize his days. There was time to go to bed, time to get up, time to eat, time to watch out for aurors and Dementors, time to read, time to just sit and think. Having a timetable enabled him to keep a firm grasp on reality. He also managed to further improve his living conditions.

Yet, these activities could not satisfy his eagerness to do something. He was still locked up in a very small space with no news of the outside world reaching him. He was not alone though. The Patronus was constantly with him now, witnessing his ever growing impatience; and her willingness to ease his solitude soon came to surpass all his expectations.


	21. Quill and Parchment

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 21**

_Quill and Parchment_

It was night, but he was wide awake. Sitting on his bed, he was watching the shining light of his Patronus. He was willing her to look at him and to acknowledge his impatience for something to happen at last. Even a trial with an audience was beginning to seem attractive in comparison with this forced passivity. He was watching her so intently that his eyes began to hurt, and then he saw the shape of her light change until she was not a doe any more, but Vil in her true form.

"Say it," she said softly. "Tell me what you want to tell me. I'm here to listen to you."

That was not very easy to respond to; besides, suspicion was aroused in his mind.

"Is anything going to happen?" he asked. "You are not going to ... leave me, for example?"

"No," she smiled. "I'll never leave you as long as you are on the side of the light. Wherever I am and whatever shape I wear, I am always the same. You must remember that."

"I loathe the idea of a trial," said Snape, "but I wish it was over at last. I wish I knew what to expect ... life or death. There would be no more waiting, no more of this uncertainty."

"Don't you trust Dumbledore?" she asked.

He was thinking for a while.

"I know," he said in the end, "no other wizards could help me as much as he can, but being deprived of information makes me feel -" he hesitated before saying the word - "vulnerable."

"This is not the time for action," she said, enfolding him in a light beam. "But you must not give yourself over to worry or to restlessness. It is not true that you cannot do anything. You can think; you can make plans; you can use this time to understand yourself. You must preserve your mind for the trial - and beyond."

"Beyond?" Snape asked sharply. "Are you sure there will be a future afterwards? Even if I am allowed to leave this place, everyone will know what I was - and now that the Dark Lord is gone, perhaps not even Dumbledore will need me any more."

"Then you must make plans of your own," she said.

He thought of Lily telling him he could be a healer. It was a nice thought - and yet he knew it was ridiculous as well. The freedom he could hope for was only relative - and by no means granted yet.

"I may deserve this all," he said quietly. "I hate what I did once. The Dementors made me relive certain events ... I don't know if I can ever properly atone for everything, but lately - I have been useful."

He paused, waiting for her to agree or to disagree. Though she was giving him her full attention, she remained silent, so he continued.

"I could still be useful perhaps. Dumbledore thinks the Dark Lord will return. When it happens, I must be there to fight him. ... That wretched prophecy ... He will be sure now that it is about Lily's son."

His usually pale cheeks flooded with colour.

"I may have to break out of here or come back from the end of the world - as long as I can breathe, I will have to do my very best to stop him."

Her eyes glinted curiously.

"Severus, do you expect to be able to watch over them forever?" she asked.

"I owe her this much," he answered. "It does not matter what it takes."

"It is almost a miracle that recently you have always been near enough to help," she said. "How do you imagine that in future?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "But Lily considers me a friend. Her best friend. She even said she wanted me and Potter to be friends, too."

"Do you think it is possible?"

Snape was pacing the small space from wall to wall for a while; then he turned to face her again.

"No, I don't think so," he said firmly, "but to save _her_, I would do the impossible."

She smiled.

"And what is the impossible in this case?"

Snape was agitated.

"I know very well that I cannot be with her all the time!" he said. "Lily belongs to Potter; she may be sitting by his sickbed right now! Those days on the island and afterwards were exceptional. She will want to live a normal life now, and I would only drive them mad ... and myself, too. I must let her go."

He clenched his fist in a rush of determination.

"But I must protect her ... protect _them_ ... I must fight for her without letting my life depend on her, without saddling her with my hopes and my disappointments. I am her friend, and she does not need me as anything else. I must not be too close ... only close enough to save her if necessary."

These were not exactly new thoughts, but he had never put them into precise words before, and therefore they had never been as clear to him as they were now. He wanted her opinion, but she raised a finger to her mouth.

"Someone is coming," she whispered. "They must not see me."

She vanished, leaving the cell in complete darkness. Snape jumped at once, rapidly casting Disillusionment Charms towards the table and the shelf. There was a reasonable hope that Disillusionment would be enough to conceal his secret possessions at night. He had just hidden the wand into his robes, when he could see the faint light of another wand.

"Severus?" breathed a familiar voice.

It was Mary. Snape lit his wand, too, and Mary cast a Patronus.

"I was not sure if you were asleep or not," she said. "But it is safer to come this way by night. What happened here?"

She glanced round with astonishment.

"Just a minute," said Snape. He removed the Disillusionment Charms. "Does that look better?"

"Definitely."

Mary smiled, but only briefly.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Well, I'm having the time of my life here, right?" Snape snapped. "How could I dream of anything better than a luxury cell in Azkaban?"

He would never have admitted it, but he was ashamed by the sudden fright he had felt at the idea that someone was approaching. He hated being reduced to _that_. Mary did not answer but placed her magical bag on a chair, and lit a candle, watching him observantly all the time.

"I know how you must feel," she said patiently. "You remind me of myself."

"So what brings you here tonight?" he asked a few moments later, considerably calmer now.

"I thought your supplies could be running low," she replied, opening her bag.

Snape thought it was a very fortunate circumstance that he had saved her life twice - without that, her continued donations would be awfully embarrassing.

But just as Mary began to unpack what she had brought him, Snape noticed the strong prickling sensation in both his hands.

He gestured for her to be silent and hastily extinguished the candle. Mary understood what was happening and with a wave of her wand she sent the table and the chairs back into her bag. Snape Disillusioned the shelf and Mary herself, who immediately blended into the grey prison wall. Her Patronus vanished, and the air became freezing cold. Snape could hear the door open and someone enter.

"Put down the chair and leave me alone with him," a stranger's voice ordered, and the door closed, shutting out the Dementor.

Simultaneously, several candles floated into the cell, illuminating the place but most of all the wizard who had brought them. Snape's gaze quickly swept his surroundings, where everything looked exactly as it had looked on the day of his arrival. Then he turned towards the visitor.

He was older than Snape, but not yet a middle-aged man, clean-shaven and elegant. He lowered himself into the large chair that the Dementor had brought and scrutinized Snape for a few moments, then, quite unexpectedly, a saccharine smile appeared on his large face.

"I am pleased to see I do not have to wake you from your sleep," he said.

He had a high and oily voice. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"If you were worried about that, why did you come in the middle of the night?" he asked coldly.

Contrary to Snape's expectations, the smile widened.

"In my position, working overtime is the rule rather than the exception. This visit is due more to a sense of moral duty than to an official obligation."

"I know nothing about your position," Snape grunted.

"I beg your pardon," the stranger said. "I am Icarus Vane, Senior Advisor to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Snape sat down, too, without saying anything. The official would no doubt tell him whatever he had come to tell even without his questions. The hour of the visit made him suspicious, and he did not like the sound of the "moral duty" that Icarus Vane had mentioned.

"I had better get to the point then," said the man, perhaps with a hint of disappointment in his voice, as the introduction had evidently failed to achieve the desired effect.

"I am going to ask a few questions regarding your forthcoming trial," he continued. "I suppose you are going to make a full confession to the Wizengamot."

Mr Vane looked at Snape expectantly, but Snape did not hurry with his reply.

"I suppose," he said in the end, "I am obliged to answer the council's questions truthfully. That should be enough."

"A sincere confession made in advance," said the man, sitting back comfortably in his chair, "usually spares the accused many unpleasant questions and answers in front of a large number of people and helps to secure the much-needed goodwill of the council."

"Have you come all the way to Azkaban to tell me _that_?" Snape asked abrasively.

"I will try to explain," said Mr Vane in a patronizing tone as though Snape was too stupid to understand some complicated concept.

"I am advising you, with totally benevolent intentions, on the actions that in your position would be the wisest to take. You have never been tried yet, and your attempt to flee justice shortly before your arrest suggests that you are gravely in need of some sound advice."

"And why would you want to do that?" Snape snarled with cold fury. "I am not the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and you are not paid to give sound advice to _me_."

"It does not surprise me that you are not inclined to trust me," said the man with unwavering smile. "Lack of good judgement is one of the unfortunate character traits shared by so many of the young men who choose the wrong path, trust the wrong people and finally end their tragically wasted lives _here_. But it is precisely your youth and your inexperience that prompted me to come here and offer my advice to you."

Snape stared into a shadowy corner of the cell, where he suspected Mary to be. Reminding himself of her presence was the best incentive for him to keep his anger under control. Mr Vane was not discouraged by lack of response, quite on the contrary.

"For old, hardened criminals, there is little help. Their crimes are too many, their habits are fixed, and their hearts are unchanging. Young men like you, however, are different. For you, not all is lost yet, that is my unshakable belief."

He made a broad movement with both his arms as if he was giving the whole island to Snape as a generous present.

"I am selfish, my young friend, utterly selfish - for it pains me to see how young lives are wasted in the quagmire of dark practices, and that is why I take the opportunity to give guidance and counselling to people like you every time I can."

"Skip the pious talk," said Snape, "and tell me what you want from me."

"Considering your background," said Mr Vane with studied politeness, "I know I must make allowances for you, but it is my duty to warn you that, as a general rule, bad manners are a poor recommendation."

"Does your boss know that you are here?"

"The reasons that have brought me to you," Mr Vane replied, "are humanitarian rather than professional; and I am not entitled to share information about my workplace or my colleagues with you. Such information does not concern you."

Snape began to ponder the advantages and disadvantages of drawing his wand and hexing the man. It would surely make him feel better now, but it would also cost him dear afterwards.

"As I was beginning to say," the official went on, "showing remorse and willingness to cooperate is your best hope now. A full, written confession would be the ideal means to convince the Wizengamot that you have seen the error of your ways and are ready to change your life. In this case, your youth will be to your advantage."

"You will be glad to hear then," said Snape frostily, "that you are pushing at an open door. I gave my written confession to the Ministry a long time ago. As for remorse and cooperation, risking my life to fight the Dark Lord and to protect others should mean more than all the lip service I could pay to the sentiments you are advocating."

Mr Vane was showing signs of impatience for the first time.

"I know about the document in question, but such a gesture can be useful only if it is sincere and full. In the light of certain recent events, an update is definitely in order."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I am referring to the murder of Mr Caulis, of course."

Snape gave him a _murderous_ look.

"This is the first time I have heard his name."

Mr Vane shook his head.

"Stubbornness will take you nowhere, young man. A full, sincere confession would not only ease your soul, but it would also secure a lighter sentence for you, as well as spare you the embarrassment of being publicly proven guilty."

"Do you want me to confess to murder?" Snape asked in a quiet, sharp voice, staring straight into the man's eyes.

"To that and to everything else that you have committed. In return, I will be pleased to enlighten you of your options. Being imprisoned for life in Azkaban is what most convicted Death Eaters can expect. However, exceptions - with good reasons - are possible. The punishment can be much lighter. Just to mention a few possibilities: Your time can be served outside Azkaban, in a much less unpleasant place. The sentence can be exile rather than imprisonment, or it can even be work in a suitable workplace for a definite time or -"

"What if I am not a murderer?" Snape interrupted. "What if I have nothing to add to what I have already told the Ministry?"

"Pretence," sighed Mr Vane, "you may deny the obvious until you begin to believe what you pretend is the truth. But this will not convince the council. Not when the aurors have tangible evidence against you."

"That's a lie," said Snape.

"On, no, no, no," Mr Vane said. "You are very much mistaken, my unfortunate friend. You deny knowing even the victim's name, but we know that he knew you. It was in the Prophet, don't forget that. But this is not all. The evidence against you is most incriminating."

He paused for effect, but Snape's expression was inscrutable, even though his mind was racing. Was the man only bluffing or would Barty Crouch really be willing to have him convicted on the basis of forged evidence just to discredit the evidence against his son? Mr Vane reached into his pocket and gave Snape a photograph.

"Look at this, my young friend," he said.

In the photo, he saw himself glaring at a small, plump and obviously frightened man in a rather sinister manner. He did not know the man, and he certainly could not recall when the photo had been taken; but, oddly enough, he was almost sure that he had seen it before.

"Do you remember the situation?" Icarus Vane asked.

"No," said Snape. "Perhaps you can ... _enlighten_ me."

"Well, this photo shows beyond doubt that you knew Mr Caulis ... and that he had good reason to fear you. Whoever took this picture, it was a clever move. Poor old Mr Caulis could have made much better use of it by notifying the aurors instead of sending the picture to the Daily Prophet."

Snape glared at Icarus Vane quite as angrily as his image in the picture was glaring at the alleged Mr Caulis.

"I don't know how this picture was forged, but I never met this man!"

"As I said, Mr Caulis gave this photo to the Prophet," said Mr Vane with barely disguised pleasure. "It was attached to a memory - a memory that relates the whole meeting between you. He asked the Prophet to pass on the memory and the photo to the aurors if anything happened to him - and as we know, something did happen to him ... It was a bad deed, young man, a very bad deed. Even if you were scared, even if you were genuinely afraid that his revelations would make you an outcast in the society where you wanted to return, it was not the way to deal with the problem - and it is high time you understood it."

The cell darkened and the air cooled down as a Dementor gave a long, loud sigh outside the door. Mr Vane shuddered, and Snape could feel the photograph flutter in his hand. But the Dementor did not linger.

"Memories can be tampered with," Snape said.

"Of course, they can. We, in the Ministry, know this. But we also have the means to determine whether a memory has been modified or not. The memory in question is authentic."

"What if I have witnesses?" snapped Snape. "What if I can prove that I was not even near this Mr Caulis, because I was somewhere else all the time?"

"This would raise the suspicion that you were not acting alone. It would also raise serious doubts about the assertion that you had broken all ties with other Death Eaters ... If you were suspected to have had accomplices, the Ministry would certainly want to find out who they were. You may know perhaps that aurors interrogating Death Eaters are given licence to use methods that they must not use in any other cases."

"And why are you telling me all this?" Snape hissed. "If you are so sure ... why are you wasting your time here?"

"I have told you," said Mr Vane. "I am not trying to prove anything. I am only trying to advise you what to do - before it is too late. After the trial and the verdict, there will be no more chance to repent. No one will be interested."

He produced a quill and a piece of parchment.

"You have to take the first step," he wheedled. "Then I can help you ... true regret may still open a door for you, save you from the Dementors ... you are young, don't miss the chance for a better life yet."

Before Snape was able to protest, the quill was thrust into his hand, and it seemed to suddenly start a life of its own, pulling at his hand and beginning to write on the parchment with bewildering speed. He struggled to drop the quill, but in vain. His fingers might have been glued to it, and he could not stop writing and writing the incriminating words, pleading guilty to murder ... At last, he succeeded, and the quill fell on the floor.

"Pick it up," said a smooth, coaxing voice. "Go on ... it is almost finished."

But Snape noticed the man's hand slip into his pocket and quietly draw a wand, its tip pointing at him. The wind whistled outside the prison, entering the cell through the small window, ruffling Mr Vane's well-groomed hair. Without thinking, Snape reached for his wand, too. But he did not need to use it. Mr Vane put the wand back into his pocket, bent down, picked up his quill, and put it away, too.

"Very well," he said, standing up. "Pardon me, but I need to stretch out my legs."

Mr Vane went to the window, with his back to Snape, who stared at the parchment. In his own handwriting, it already contained everything that Mr Vane had wanted, except for his signature. Very carefully, Snape took his wand into his hand, and quickly erased the words, wiped the parchment clean. When Mr Vane turned back to him, the wand was in his pocket again. Mr Vane absentmindedly took the empty parchment from him and rolled it up, without taking even a glance at it.

"I must leave you, my young friend," he said in his usual unctuous voice. "It was a pleasure to meet you, a real pleasure indeed. Remember what I told you."

"Rest assured that I will," Snape growled, but Mr Vane did not pay attention.

With somewhat wobbling steps, he aimed for the door, the candles following him, and soon darkness fell on the cell. It was not dark for long, however. Lighting her wand, Mary hurried to Snape.

"Are you all right? He tortured you, that sanctimonious worm."

She looked into his eyes worriedly.

"No, not torture," he said vaguely. "But he was weird, very weird."

He was feeling exhausted as though he had really been tortured.

"I did not mean physical torture," she said mildly. "I saw everything. But I don't quite understand what this was all about."

"There is only one thing I know about this Mr Caulis for sure," he muttered, "and it is that I did not murder him."

"Lily had told me that you would likely be interrogated about this murder," Mary said, "but this was much worse than anything I had thought."

"Whatever evidence they have," Snape said, "it can only be a forgery. But I wonder ... if they are really willing to use it, why did this vulture come here to warn me?"

"He did not come to warn you," Mary replied.

"But why don't they keep this ... _evidence_ secret so as to surprise me at the trial?"

"They'd obviously prefer to have a written confession from you," Mary fumed. "Perhaps they forged it specifically to frighten you and to make you plead guilty hoping for a lighter sentence. Disgusting."

"Not that he really needed all that effort he put into persuading me," said Snape gravely. "That quill almost did the trick. When I managed to stop writing, only my signature was missing. I doubt I would have been able to erase the words after signing the parchment - and I thought he was going to curse me. I have no idea why he changed his mind."

A knowledgeable smile twinkled in her eyes.

"Oh, that was nothing. He got Confunded a little. Served him right."

He rewarded her with an appreciative glance.

"That was quite skilfully done."

He knew that without her, Mr Vane would have either obtained the false confession or discovered his illegal wand, and he could expect the worst in both cases.

"It was a real pleasure, indeed," Mary said loftily, imitating Mr Vane's farewell.

She laughed, and even Snape felt slightly more cheerful for a minute.

Then, with an even more mysterious expression, she pulled something out of her pocket, and gave it to him. It was a photograph, the same one that Mr Vane had shown him. Or, more precisely, not the same but -

"You duplicated it!"

Mary nodded.

"I thought I'd try it, though it was difficult to focus on the photograph from that distance. I would have hated to duplicate the Ministry worm by mistake. But now we can examine this photo a little better."

The both bent over the picture illuminated by Mary's wand.

"Could you make some more light?" he asked.

"I'd rather wait a little to give that man time to leave the island. He may notice a very bright light if he looks back when he flies away."

"You are right," said Snape. "But I think ... a Dementor is coming."

The incident with Mr Vane had made him ill-prepared for an encounter with Dementors, and perhaps that was the reason why he noticed the proximity of the foul creature sooner than Mary. But now she could feel it, too, and the light of her wand went out.

"What shall I do?" she asked.

"Flee if you can," Snape answered. "Disillusionment does not help now."

He rose to his feet, and turned towards the door, his hand on his wand. Now several Dementors appeared to be rattling in the corridor.

The temperature was falling rapidly as usual, and yet, despite the Dementor-cold enveloping them, Snape could feel some inexplicable warmth reaching him, defying the cold. Mary was standing by his side, so close that it would have been indecent in any other situations, as though she was trying to blend her soul, her happiness and her misery, into his, trying to make the Dementors perceive the two of them as one.

Only the draught warned them that the door was opening in the darkness, and promptly they heard a Dementor's breath quite close. The temptation to try and cast a Patronus while he was still able to do it was very strong. However, he also knew that it would irrevocably disclose his illegal possession of a wand, and the monsters were not likely to put up with that. The aurors would be informed, and it would be difficult to fool _them_...

He could feel hope and comfort being sucked out of the very air around him. If Mr Vane had come in this moment, he would likely have confessed to any crime Mr Vane could possibly imagine in his twisted mind. But all of a sudden, the draining away of positive feelings seemed to stop, and _some_ comforting, hopeful thoughts at least remained, as though lingering in limbo somewhere nearby. He had a wand. He was not alone. He was not even as cold as other times.

Reluctantly, the Dementor turned away from them and glided towards the door, its breath rattling ominously all the time.


	22. The Pieces of the Puzzle

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 22**

_The P__ieces of the Puzzle_

"First time?" Snape inquired, handing Mary a cup of tea.

Mary nodded and took a small gulp. She was sitting on the rickety bed, her whole body shaking.

"I can't describe how I'm feeling."

"There is no need to describe it to me," said Snape. "I know it."

Her Patronus was flying in circles above her head - she had performed a Patronus Charm the moment the door had closed behind the Dementor. It was a miracle she had managed to do it, being apparently on the brink of fainting.

"You need some chocolate as soon as possible," he said. "It is the best remedy now."

"I should have brought you some chocolate then," Mary muttered. "Next time I will."

Snape was eyeing her, wondering if she was really prepared to visit him once more after this experience.

"You must leave immediately," he said. "If they notice that there are two of us here, they will make sure you must stay, too. They may have sensed you already."

"No," she said. "Not yet. First we must talk."

Snape cautiously sat down next to her, the photo in his hand. The darkness outside was turning grey, but it was not noticeable in the fortress yet.

"How can they be so eager to lay this crime at your door instead of finding the real murderer?" Mary said, glancing at the picture.

"It would be most convenient for them," Snape explained. "Vane's boss is the same Barty Crouch whose son I caught with a bunch of Death Eaters. If I am convicted, they can try to make it seem as though Barty had caught me."

"I never liked Crouch," Mary said. "He can be rather intimidating."

"Do you know him?"

"I saw him once or twice," she answered. "When I was a child."

"Really?"

"My parents worked at the Ministry," she said quietly. "They took me to their workplace occasionally. I met several Ministry employees there."

"Were your parents aurors?"

"No, not aurors. They did not work with Crouch. I saw him only by chance."

"You have never mentioned your parents yet," Snape said.

Mary shrugged.

"I have not heard from them for a long time."

"But are they alive?"

"I hope they are," said Mary. "They did not answer my letter after granddad's disappearance. They have not written to me ever since, and I don't even know where to look for them. They left Britain for work-related reasons a few years ago. They would probably have done that earlier if I had not been too young to be left behind. I stayed with granddad, of course."

She wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That's not what we should be talking about."

"My parents are dead," said Snape more to himself than to her. "And I don't have many good memories of them. I never understood why they stayed together at all."

"Some couples," said Mary, "stay together because they think it is better for their child."

Snape almost laughed.

"I'm quite certain that _this_ was not their reason," he said. "Anyway ... what did you want to discuss?"

"Dumbledore must be informed of what has taken place here."

"Ah, yes," Snape said wearily. "Dumbledore."

"I will talk to him."

"Very well," he said. "Have you thought of how to explain your ... _involvement_ in this matter to him?"

"Do you think he would disapprove of my coming here?" Mary asked. "Even after what I saw tonight?"

"I couldn't blame him if he did," Snape said curtly.

"Would you rather have been forced to sign whatever that evil magical quill wrote in your name?"

"You had better not trifle with Dementors. That is what Dumbledore would say."

"Just leave Dumbledore to me. What is the message?"

_Tell__ him to come and see me._ That was what Snape would have most liked to answer; only he could not say it. If Dumbledore did not care to come of his own accord, Snape was not going to plead for a visit.

He stared at the photo again. With his wand, his pushed aside his own image, and the picture of the frightened little man came closer.

"Poor Mr Caulis," said Mary. "He looks so terrified. I wonder how he got caught up in this dirty business."

"Dumbledore says," Snape explained, "Mr Caulis must have been Imperiused to call the attention of the Daily Prophet to me. He was merely a tool in the hands of the Dark Lord so that he could ... punish me."

It was unnerving to see how the Dark Lord's revenge was still operating even though the Dark Lord himself was hiding defeated and powerless.

"But how was this picture taken?"

Snape pushed aside Mr Caulis, and now his own image was facing him directly. Snape hissed.

"I know!"

"Do you know how it was taken?" whispered Mary.

"No, but I know where I saw this picture."

He remembered quite distinctly now. It was in the newspaper that Lily and Potter had brought to the island, in the newspaper that Lily had wanted to keep secret from him. Mr Caulis had been left out of the picture published in the Prophet, but it was the very same picture of Snape; he had no doubts about that. He could not recall the date on the paper, but he knew that he had seen it on the day before the battle, and then it must have been several days old already. That, however, meant that the photo had been taken earlier than he had thought - it had not been forged as a consequence of Barty Crouch's arrest.

According to Vane, Mr Caulis had sent the photo to the Prophet - instead of informing the aurors about the alleged threat. Was it a reasonable move? The plump little man's action appeared to have been designed to attract attention rather than to protect the victim. Could it all be a part of the Dark Lord's plan? Making Mr Caulis disclose Snape's past to the Prophet, forging the "evidence" and forcing Mr Caulis to send it to the Prophet ... then killing Mr Caulis - had it all been planned and implemented by Death Eaters? In that case, Crouch had nothing to do but seize the opportunity provided by the Dark Lord himself.

He shared his thoughts with Mary, but the origin of the photo was still a question to be answered - and there was also the mysterious memory Vane had mentioned. Could such a memory exist? Could it have been forged without anyone in the Ministry discovering the trick? Or maybe they did not try very hard to discover anything that would be in Snape's favour?

He enlarged the picture as much as it was possible, and began studying the details, looking for a clue, a giveaway, something that would prove beyond doubt that despite the similarity, it was not _his_ photo. The image, however, seemed perfect until he began examining the hand that was reaching menacingly for Mr Caulis. There, on the ring finger, he glimpsed the proof, although it could not be worth much in front of the Wizengamot. It was a ring, a golden ring, with a complicated pattern carved into it and a black stone.

Snape never wore a ring. He had never had one. He did not spend money on such things; and he had never received expensive presents, nor had he inherited any valuable jewellery from his parents.

"Can you see anything?" Mary asked.

"Here is a task worthy of Dumbledore," he said with stark irony. "If he can find this ring, he can find the real perpetrator."

Mary stared at the ring for a moment; then she jumped, gasping.

"A snake," she panted nervously. "Look at the carving ... the stone is the head ... and the ring is like a snake biting its own tail."

Snape found it difficult to recognize the details of the carving from the picture.

"Perhaps," he said. "But why... Oh."

He suddenly remembered that snakes terrified Mary more than anything. In fact, it seemed that snakes were the only things she was truly afraid of. Mary turned crimson.

"It is not what you think," she said hurriedly. "Or at least, not _only_ that. I know the ring is not a real snake, but ... I have seen it once."

"You have seen this ring?"

"Yes," Mary said. "I remember the snake-pattern and the stone. It was worn by the Death Eater who took me to You-Know-Who. I'm sure this is the same ring."

This was an interesting discovery.

"It could fit very well..." Snape was thinking aloud. "It may be the same Death Eater! What did he look like?"

"He was tall and thin," said Mary, "but -"

"... He was wearing a hood," Snape finished her sentence, disappointed but not surprised. "Of course, he was."

Snape was racking his brains. If the ring belonged to a Death Eater, and that was a perfectly logical idea, he might have seen it, too. Perhaps he _had_ seen it. But who, who had been wearing it? Some of the Death Eaters coming from rich or ancient families wore jewellery, usually a ring. He had always regarded it as showing off and never paid much attention it.

"Actually," said Mary, "I recognized his voice. At least I think I did."

"Who was he?"

"Someone I knew from school," she said. "The hooded man sounded like ... Mulciber. Is he a Death Eater?"

_Mulciber_!

"Yes he is," Snape replied, thinking hard. "Tall and thin ... If there was ever a specialist of the Imperius Curse among the Dark Lord's followers, besides the Dark Lord himself, it was Mulciber. I can also see him sporting that ring."

"I don't understand," Mary began, but she broke off.

"I only wonder how he or anyone else managed to impersonate me ..." Snape muttered. "Could it be Polyjuice Potion? But how?"

"But I thought ... I thought you and Mulciber used to be friends at school!" Mary blurted out. "If You-Know-Who wanted to take revenge on you, why would he have chosen a friend of yours to carry out his plan?"

Snape had long realized that the word "friend" had a rather wide range of meaning. He cast a dark glance at Mary.

"Did you learn nothing about the Dark Lord? Disobeying his orders to save me - I don't think any of his followers would ever have got even close to the idea. When I left them, it put an end to all friendship, such as it was. Defying the Dark Lord would have meant certain death. I don't think _I_ would have done it to save Mulciber."

"You never really liked them, did you?" Mary asked in a soft, kind tone.

"That is a long story," Snape answered quietly. "It goes without saying that the Dark Lord expected absolute devotion to his person from everyone. Apart from that, the Death Eaters were united by a sense of community, a powerful alliance against the rest of the world, which was usually more important than personal friendship even inside the organization. There is no denying that the idea of belonging to a strong and exclusive group attracted me at one time. It was almost like having friends ... or a family, with the Dark Lord as a father figure to all of us."

"To me it sounds very different from having friends or a family," said Mary. "Friends and family will love _you_, not the ... organization. And You-Know-Who as a father figure is downright chilling."

The black eyes bored deep into the hazel ones.

"Have you ever," he asked slowly "settled for a substitute when you were convinced you could not have the real thing?"

After a long moment, she self-consciously dropped her gaze.

"Severus, I'm sorry," she said, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "I had no right to question you."

"I am not defending what I did," said Snape. "I learned my lesson even without Mr Vane coming here to lecture me."

He began rubbing his left forearm as he spoke, but realizing what he was doing, he felt a rush of bitter revulsion.

"I could have been stronger, I might have known better - but I was easy prey in those days, absorbed in sad memories, wearing my heart on my sleeve... playing with Dark Magic to make myself feel better. It was like a recipe for trouble."

"Will you tell this to the Wizengamot?"

"To the Wizengamot?" Snape returned the question somewhat surprised.

Then he understood.

"You mean in defence of my decision to become a Death Eater? No."

He snorted.

"Just think! How many people are there in that council? There might be an audience, too. Though I may be lucky enough to attract no interest at all ... But I am not going to explain my reasons. And I don't think they would care if I did. I'll stick to the bare facts."

"Let's see the facts then," Mary suggested. "Now we have a suspect at least."

"It would be worth taking the trouble to have a word with Mulciber," said Snape. "Dumbledore could do it."

"But he must find Mulciber first."

"No!" Snape said. "Mulciber was captured in the battle on the Order's island - he must be here in this very building - unless he has had a trial and talked himself out of prison, of course ..."

"Mulciber was caught?" Mary's eyes opened wide. "Oh, why did I not know this?"

"I saw him with my own eyes," Snape explained. "He fell into a magical trap ... he and Avery. I removed the traps myself. The aurors led them into a prison-hospital tent."

He could not help fuming as he remembered that only a day later one of those aurors arrested him, too.

The short summer night was already over, and the foggy light of dawn had reached the small prison cell. Snape was standing facing Mary, whose eyes were red with sleeplessness. He felt bad about asking this favour of her, but he had precious few options.

"I wish I could avoid dragging you deeper into this dire affair," he said. "But if you are willing to help me once more, I must ask you to inform Dumbledore."

"I'll see him first thing in the morning," said Mary, meeting his gaze. "I promise. But I have a request to make in return," she added tentatively.

"Yes?"

"I don't feel quite up to starting the journey right now," she said. "Could I stay here and rest just an hour or so? I will still be at Hogwarts quite early in the morning. I need some sleep."

"Well, of course," he replied with a trace of apprehension in his voice, "if you don't mind the ... circumstances here."

He glanced at the only piece of furniture in the cell, wondering if he should offer _that_ to her to sleep on.

"The chairs will do," she said, blushing suddenly, and she went to her bag, where the table and the two chairs were still hidden.

"As you please," Snape muttered, and stepped to the window, feeling, for some mysterious reason, horribly awkward.

By the time he turned towards her again, she had transformed one of the two chairs into a reclining chair, suitable for sleeping when nothing better was available, and the other one into a footstool, so that she was sitting quite comfortably, with the back of her chair towards the rickety bed. She used a light coat as a blanket and was half-asleep already.

Snape threw himself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. It hurt him to be unable to reward Mary with even a basic gesture of hospitality when she was doing so much for him - and whatever guilt or gratitude she might have felt, Snape knew that she did not really owe him these favours.

"One more word," he said firmly, without looking in her direction. "You don't have to come back here just to tell me what Dumbledore answered. And I will be fine without any chocolate."

But Mary quite clearly defied this last instruction when she reappeared outside the window on her flying horse the next evening, her Patronus bathing in the light of the setting sun.

"Wait a minute," he murmured and quickly cast a Muffliato spell. "Now you can speak. I told you there was no need to come again -"

"I had to," she said. "I have news."

Her tone made it obvious that the news was bad.

"I could not talk to Dumbledore," she said. "All I have found out is that he is not in Britain. McGonagall did not tell me when he could be expected to come back, and I did not dare to reveal why I needed him. Shall I send him an owl?"

"No," said Snape. "You'd better not write down anything. Sooner or later, Dumbledore will come back."

"That's not all," said Mary. "I thought I could make inquiries about Mulciber at least. I went to St Mungo's."

"What for?"

"To talk to Moody. Naturally, I did not mention the main reason why I was interested in Mulciber. I only told him that Mulciber had caught me and my granddad - and that he was quite ... nasty to me."

There was something in her voice that made Snape's throat constrict as a series of repulsive but familiar images flashed through his mind.

"Don't be surprised, Severus," said Mary, when Snape remained silent. "I rather like Moody. He was very kind to me when we were both ill on the island. He reminds me of my granddad - and he is an auror, so I thought he could help."

"But he is ill."

"He is recovering. He is able to speak again. In fact, he may leave St Mungo's in a couple of days."

"Glad to hear that," Snape muttered. "Any other news from St Mungo's?"

"I did not have time to see James if you mean that," said Mary with a very faint smile. "But I ran into Lily for a moment. She was leaving as I arrived. Later I met Sirius in the tearoom. I hoped he would give me some information about Dumbledore, but I had no luck."

"So how is Potter?" Snape asked coolly.

"As far as his illness is concerned, he is getting better, too. In other respects ... I don't know."

"What other respects?"

Mary sighed.

"Sirius was in a black mood. He said James and Lily were having an argument over some trivialities and they were already speaking of divorce. He was grumbling about sensible women going crazy without warning. It turned out that his own girlfriend had broken up with him because she had not seen him for weeks, while he had been doing Order work. That's all I managed to get out of him."

But Snape hardly heard the news about Black's girlfriend. His thoughts were centred on Lily, who was quarrelling with Potter over trivialities... What was the meaning of that?

"Was Lily upset when you saw her?"

Mary seemed slightly annoyed.

"I can't tell. She ran past me without noticing me. I was also in a hurry because I wanted to see Moody as soon as I could."

"Ah, yes," said Snape resignedly. "What about Moody?"

What Mary told him now proved to be the most disappointing piece of news. Moody was well enough to communicate with his colleagues, and he had already reported to the Ministry the loss of his wand, which no one had noticed before. His "relapse" on the night after the Dark Lord's downfall had been caused by a curse imitating a natural relapse. The attacker had used Moody's own wand and had apparently stolen the wand as well as Moody's auxiliary wand. The trick was so successful that no one had made the connection between Moody's aggravated condition and the two Death Eaters who had escaped from a hospital tent that very same night.

"But now it appears," said Mary, "that the two escaped prisoners were Avery and Mulciber, and they were also the ones who attacked Moody. The aurors were trying to trace the two runaways, but in vain, and the Ministry did not make the information public. They had captured quite a few Death Eaters on the two islands, and everyone was in ecstasy because You-Know-Who had just lost his power, therefore it was quite easy to hush up this blunder. So you see, not even Dumbledore could interrogate Mulciber now."

Snape's hand flew to his temple as helpless anger sent a sharp, stabbing pain through his head. How could things go wrong so much?

"How were they able to leave the island?" he asked after a long silence. "Why didn't the aurors find them? Did they inform Dumbledore or anyone in the Order at all?"

"I don't know, Severus," said Mary kindly. "I'm so sorry."

"They had to know the password to be able to escape," Snape said, jerking his head up. "Someone must have helped them."

"I think," said Mary," that is why they needed Moody's auxiliary wand, too; not only his regular wand. From Pettigrew they knew how the auxiliary wands were used."

"Yes, and that was why Dumbledore changed the defence system of the island!" Snape said. "Don't you remember? Everyone needed a password to be able to return there from the Dark Lord's island. The auxiliary wand -"

Snape stopped suddenly and his eyes grew huge. Could it be? If no one in the Order had been informed, was it possible that Mulciber and Avery had not escaped from the island at all?

"You are right about the password," said Mary. "But if they knew the password, why did they take the auxiliary wand?"

"Perhaps they did not know about it at all," said Snape. "I have an idea ... but I'm not sure."

There were too many _if_s.

Even if Mulciber and Avery had taken Moody's auxiliary wand, did that _necessarily_ mean that they had believed it to be the tool they needed to get away from the island? How likely was it that they had heard about the existence of a password? If they did try to use the auxiliary wand, what were the chances that they were still where the wand had taken them? And if so, were they still alive or would they live long enough to give any evidence when Dumbledore returned and found them?

"Are you going to let me in on your idea?" Mary demanded, when Snape did not seem to be about to say more.

"I think I know where they are - but I may be wrong."

He shrugged.

"I can't go after them anyway. I must wait until Dumbledore returns."

_Or longer_, he thought bitterly.

"Do you want _me_ to go after them?" Mary asked. "I would love to get back at them -"

"You? No. It is too dangerous."

_Gryffindors_, he thought, almost sneering.

"I am not afraid," Mary raised her voice a little.

"Avery and Mulciber," Snape explained slowly as though he was speaking to a small child, "are two dangerous dark wizards. The place where I suspect them to be is quite perilous even if they are not there. It would be easy enough for Dumbledore, but you cannot go there alone."

"Suppose I'm not alone?" Mary suggested. "Some of your friends may want to help."

"Some of my friends," Snape repeated, stepping away from the window hole.

_What nonsense_. He had one friend only and that was Lily, and he was quite sure that he would rather stay in Azkaban for a lifetime than suggest anything that would imperil her life. No, Lily must not even be tempted to go after the Death Eaters.

He stared at the floor. Perhaps it was mere arrogance to believe that Lily would rush to catch Mulciber and Avery for his sake. It was true that she had once ventured an eerie dream-journey for him, but now Potter was ill, and Lily might just choose to make peace with him and stay by his side through and through. She had _always_ chosen Potter over him... But then again, even if that was the case, Snape did not want further proof of it; therefore he had two very good reasons to leave Lily out of the investigation.

Despite what Mary thought, he had no other friends. He could not imagine turning to Black and Lupin with this request; besides, if he did, it would involve the risk of Lily finding out something."

He was roused from these thoughts by Mary's impatient whisper.

"Severus, are you still there?"

"No, I have run away," he snapped; then he let out a faint groan. "That's what I should do. To go and catch them myself. No one else can do it for me."

"Seriously?" Mary said in a very sharp tone.

"Yes, I will ask the Dementors to let me leave for a few hours," he replied sardonically.

"You don't have to go to the Dementors," Mary said. "It is enough if you ask _me_ to get you out of here."

Snape gaped at her.

"Very funny," he muttered then, irritated.

"No," said Mary. "I could at least try... I think I _could_ get you out of here and then back again.... But the Dementors must not notice your absence, and I don't know how _that_ could be done."

"And would you be willing to -?"

His words resonated with eagerness, giving away his feelings far too soon, before he was able to think his answer over.

"Yes, Severus, I would," she replied immediately.

Snape was pondering his chances. He might be absolutely wrong, but he might also be right. Would the attempt be worth the risk? Dumbledore was away, and he could not count on anyone else, so he might as well try and help himself ... Time was important, and it might already be too late ... All he had to do was lulling the Dementors into the conviction that everything was as usual. He was able to do that. But he still had to depend on Mary, and this thought gave him a sobering pang of guilt.

He looked into her anxious face.

"You are risking an awful lot on my account," he said. "I cannot accept it."

"I have been reckless ever since I got out of You-Know-Who's prison," she said with a troubled smile. "I don't think I can adjust to normal life yet. And if it must be so, I'd rather be reckless serving a good cause than otherwise. But, Severus ..."

Her voice cracked.

"... Is this the right thing to do? You must be very careful, because if these monsters catch you ..."

"I would be taking that risk for a purpose," he said. "But I don't expect you to do the same. There is no reason why -"

"There is a reason," said Mary. "If it really helps you ... then let's do it now."

He hesitated.

"You are proposing to hoodwink the Dementors and help me escape from Azkaban. Are you aware of the possible repercussions if _you_ are found out?"

"I have my suspicions, yes," she answered with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "But I _want_ those murderous villains to be caught."

Snape peered into the infinite darkness, inhaled the cool night air, and made his decision.


	23. Back to the Forest

Disclaimer: The HP world is owned by J. K. Rowling. I simply borrow her characters to play with them.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 23**

_Back to the Forest_

"What is the plan?" Snape asked. "I can fool the Dementors for a few hours, but I need some time to do it."

"I'm going away then," Mary said, taking a quick glance towards the ground. "I think the Dementors are outside and they are coming in this direction. I don't want to be noticed. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Snape stared after her. The horse was indeed flying at an amazing speed. He wished he knew how Mary was going to get him out of the fortress. But in any case, he had jobs to do.

He looked round among his possessions, and after some hesitation he took the clock. He directed his wand at it and murmured a spell. Flames flared up from the clock then went out again, but did not damage the object. Snape waited for what seemed to be a very long time, until the clock began glowing with a faint, blue light. He placed the new Dementor barrier in front of the door. Then he pointed his wand at the door and cast a series of protective spells.

The Patronus, a silver-white doe again, was watching him motionless. Snape had an uncomfortable feeling.

"I must do it," he said to her. "I must give it a try... and I need to be alone for a while."

The doe vanished, and for the first time ever, Snape felt a sense of relief at her disappearance.

_I'll never leave you as long as you are on the side of the light_.

She had better not witness what he was going to do. The magic would not be as dark as it could be - he was not about to hurt anyone - but law-abiding wizards would still shrink from experimenting with it. It was certainly not magic that could be learned at Hogwarts - but he decided not to think of Hogwarts now, because Hogwarts reminded him of the Headmaster. Then again, he was forced to do what he was doing precisely because Dumbledore was unavailable - it was no use troubling his conscience with Dumbledore's superior standards of morality.

He directed his wand at the sleeve of his prison robes and severed a large piece of cloth from it. He cast a spell, and watched the cloth change its colour. It went from grey to black and then to all the colours of the rainbow one by one. In the end it turned white, and white it remained, and Snape knew that it was ready to receive the magic he was about to perform.

With his wand, he pointed at his own arm. The spell was non-verbal this time, and as soon as he recalled it in his mind, the wand made a circular movement, while a jet of red light burst from the tip, hitting the bare part of his arm. Snape winced. When a red streak of blood appeared on his arm, he stretched it out and held it firmly above the cloth, carefully avoiding actual contact with it.

His blood was dripping slowly. At last he deemed it enough, and pointed his wand at his arm again. The bleeding stopped, but the wound was still open. Now he directed the tip of his wand at the textile, reciting a long spell. A small flame lit up at the edge of the cloth, and Snape hissed when a hot pain seared through his wounded arm. The flame was spreading gradually, slowly forming a complete circle along the edge of the cloth, which remained free of damage like the clock before, only its colour was changing again: The blood-red stain on it was growing until it covered the textile entirely. Snape did his best to concentrate on the flames instead of the intense pain, which he knew he had to feel for the magic to work effectively.

Finally the fire burned out, the flame flickered for the last time, and Snape wiped his sweating forehead. His arm was still sore, but it was easily endurable now. The blood-red piece of textile would now deceive the Dementors for quite a few hours. If they came to look for him, they could sense his emotions and his thoughts, and they would get the impression that Snape was there. Of course, it would be useless if an auror arrived, or even if a Dementor wanted to touch or (he shuddered) to _kiss_ him - in those cases the trick would be discovered at once. But the Dementor barrier would keep the Dementors at a safe distance until the magic wore off, and he had to hope that no humans would want to visit him while he was away.

Now he could really start to get ready for the journey. He did not need much preparation, but he had to take along certain items: his wand, naturally, then the Blue Stone, something to eat and drink, and a few more things. He was ready to start, and Mary still had not returned. While he was waiting, he checked everything once again, making sure he had not forgotten anything. He was waving his wand around without any particular purpose - except ... except that he wanted to do one more piece of magic. With the Dementor barrier in place, he technically did not need a Patronus at the moment, but he wanted to call her, he wanted to know if she would still be coming to him...

"Expecto Patronum!"

The doe appeared immediately, her eyes eloquently reproachful, at least so it seemed to him; but she was there, she had come without any hesitation; and for that, he would have endured much worse things than a silent reprimand.

Mary came shortly after that.

"Are you ready?" she whispered through the bars.

"Muffliato," he murmured in reply.

Mary was pondering something.

"Severus, you must promise one thing to me," she said. "You must never tell anyone about what you are going to experience now. Will you promise?"

"What do you think?" he answered impatiently. "If you suppose that I would betray you to anyone, we had better not start anything!"

"I am not talking about myself," said Mary. "I may be found out, captured or even dead, or you may be forced to reveal my role in this business; but my only request is that you never tell anyone _how_ I helped you leave this place. It is not myself that I'm protecting. Can you understand that?"

He could, and he promised all the secrecy that she wanted. She squeezed a small parcel through the window.

"You should wear this," she said. "The prison robes are too conspicuous, and someone might catch a glimpse of you on the way."

The parcel contained a set of ordinary black wizard's robes. The idea was sensible and he left the window to change.

Mary turned her head away, but her gaze was arrested by a small mirror on the opposite wall. She herself had put the mirror there, but Severus had apparently forgotten about it, and now it was showing her his reflection though he thought himself to be unobserved. True, the mirror showed only his head and his upper body. But he had just taken off the prison robes, and as she saw him stare at the ignominious uniform with an unguarded look of desperation, she could feel streaming warmth rise below her neck. His unclad chest and his pale skin made him seem so unprotected and vulnerable that a flash of emotion momentarily took her breath away.

A minute later, he stepped to the window again. He had transfigured the prison robes into a thick, strong rope, which he wanted to take along. For a second, he gaped at her strangely sparkling eyes.

"I'm ready," he said with pretended calm.

Mary swiftly took some jewellery off her neck and handed it to him through the window.

"Put it on quickly. We must leave before a Dementor comes this way."

It was a golden chain, so thin and delicate that Snape had the impression it would break at his touch, but it did not break. There was a small, egg-shaped pendant on it.

"I must warn you," said Mary, "that the magic will work only if you really want it, too."

Snape hung the chain around his neck, and the pendant slipped beneath his robes. He had expected the cold touch of metal, but the pendant was pleasantly warm.

"Can you feel anything?" she asked anxiously.

"Warmth," he replied briefly.

She sighed with relief.

"Good. Now close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you."

"Thanks for the trust," he muttered. "Don't you want to blindfold me?"

It was as though Mary was contemplating the idea.

"No," she answered finally. "It is enough if you keep your eyes closed."

Snape obeyed. He heard Mary start humming a tune - a song without words, which seemed to reach for his soul. It had an unsettling, almost tormenting beauty, and Snape was not at all inclined to open his eyes. The pendant grew warmer and warmer on his skin so that again and again he thought it would burn him if it got any hotter, but it never became painfully hot. On the contrary, as the warmth was spreading, the sensation was surprisingly delightful. Soon it was all around him, forming, it appeared, a protective shell encasing him completely. He felt blissfully relaxed and secure, and as light as though he did not have a body at all.

When the warmth closed around him, the humming was replaced by distant, poignantly beautiful instrumental music, drawing him like a magnet, and although he did not take even a step, he knew he was travelling inside the warm shell. It was not Apparition; in fact, there seemed to be no physical aspect to the journey - it was as though he had been turned into a thought or a feeling and was following the natural path of that thought or feeling, lightly and freely, leaving behind everything heavy, everything that could draw him back or stop him. Or he might have been transfigured into fire, advancing smoothly and powerfully. That would explain why the heat from the pendant did not hurt him. And yet, he had to have a body as he could suddenly feel a hand taking his hand, and then the journey really did begin.

"You can open your eyes now," said a voice, and Snape found himself out in the open air, way above Mary and her flying horse. He was floating, and slowly descending - not _falling _at all - towards _another_ flying horse, waiting for him peacefully. Below them, there was nothing but the dark, mighty water stretching to the horizon.

"Hold on!" Mary shouted happily.

Snape grabbed the bridle, and immediately the horses were shooting through the air like a pair of arrows, rapidly leaving behind the fortress.

He had never flown on a horse. On broomsticks, many times. On a living animal - never. It was in some ways similar, but still a completely different sensation. In truth, not only the horses, but everything was wonderfully new to him. Being out in this vast open space with no walls around him. Moving ahead with any speed at all. Being directly exposed to the wild wind. Seeing the sky above, where dawn was just breaking.

"Are you enjoying the flight?" Mary asked, laughing.

"I do," he said laconically, although the words did not even come close to describing what he really felt.

He took off the chain, and handed it back to her. She quickly put it on.

"You did very well," she shouted.

"I did nothing," he answered. "You alone know what happened."

"Yes, you did," she said. "You did a lot, and it was splendidly done."

Snape knew he was not supposed to ask questions about the magic, but perhaps a different type of question would be all right.

"Why did you never escape from the Dark Lord's prison?" he said somewhat bluntly.

Mary turned grave.

"Recently I have often thought of that," she replied. "Perhaps I could have saved my granddad if I had known then what I know now. Quite frankly, my granddad had to die before I had a chance to discover this secret. But don't ask more questions, please."

"Fine," Snape muttered.

"Tell me instead what you did to fool the Dementors," Mary suggested.

Snape frowned.

"That is _my_ secret," he said reluctantly. "Don't ask me about it."

Mary looked startled for a second; then she broke into ringing laughter.

"All right, I won't. Where are we going? We must give Castor and Pollux directions."

"Castor and Pollux?"

"This is Castor," she said, stroking the mane of her horse fondly. "His twin brother is Pollux."

* * *

The morning sun was high up in the sky as they reached the shore of the Order's island. The sight of the forest covering the island struck Snape with its fresh, emerald beauty. He had almost forgotten what plants could be like. He would have loved to spend some time just flying over the forest in the morning light without any particular purpose, but he knew he had to hurry. It was time to tackle a potential problem. He turned to Mary.

"Do you know the password?"

"When I came away from the island," she explained, "the auror who opened the way for me took care that I should not hear it. I am neither an auror, nor an Order member."

"And I was never told," said Snape. "My comings and goings were somewhat out of the ordinary."

"_Long live the Light_!" Mary shouted as Castor flew towards the island like lightning.

It did credit to her riding skill that she managed to stop the horse before it left her behind and that she did not fall off after all - for a horrible moment, Snape was sure that she would, as a less skilful rider would almost certainly have done, since the horse, being an animal, would have been able to enter the island without running into any obstacles.

"Just an idea for a password," Mary panted.

"Dumbledore's passwords are different," said Snape, gripping the bridle. "_Acid pops_!"

He carefully steered Pollux towards the invisible barrier, which, however, remained impenetrable.

"_Chocolate Frogs! Ice Mice! Peppermint Toads ... _All right, maybe sweets are reserved for Hogwarts ... _Transfiguration? Charms! Potions ... Muggle Studies..."_

Snape sighed.

"What else is Dumbledore interested in? Music! Let's see ... _Mozart_?"

"_Bach,_" Mary continued. "_Vivaldi_, _Wagner, Beethoven, Bartók, Berlioz_ ... Severus, this will not take us anywhere."

Snape began moving his wand about, every muscle in his face tight with concentration. When he lowered the wand, his countenance reflected astonishment.

"Can you detect anything?" Mary asked. "A defence system put up by Dumbledore is unlikely to leave easily decipherable traces of magic."

"I think," said Snape, "the system has been changed again. It is as though there were many passwords, maybe a unique one for each person who is allowed to enter. I know I never received mine."

Silence fell upon them for several minutes while the horses were slowly circling around the island, evoking a childhood memory of a Muggle merry-go-round.

A unique password for everyone sounded like the magical version of a Muggle identity document requiring neither a photo nor other data, only a name...

All of a sudden the solution was crystal clear to him. It was almost too simple...

"_Severus Snape_," he said to the invisible magic.

A moment later, he flew ahead smoothly, across the barrier to the island. Mary pronounced her own name, and the magic let her enter, too.

"I hope not everyone is as welcome as we are," said Snape, shaking his head. "Hopefully, the magic can recognize liars - and it should be selective."

"That is the point, isn't it?" Mary laughed. "Too many people must have known the password already."

"Do you think this method is foolproof?"

"Not even Azkaban is foolproof," Mary replied with a roguish twinkle in her eyes.

* * *

James Potter was munching his breakfast in St. Mungo's in a foul mood.

"She has never been like this!" he burst out. "Not since our seventh year at Hogwarts. Why is she treating me as if I was nothing to her?"

"She'll come round," said Sirius Black soothingly.

"She seems serious about it," James answered sourly. "I reckon she means every word."

"Instead of quarrelling, why don't you try to impress her?" Sirius asked. "You know, doing something really big, something that she would appreciate for sure."

"I've been imprisoned here for weeks and they still don't want to let me go home," James growled. "I feel like a guinea pig. I reckon they know nothing they have not tried yet. In the meantime, my wife wants to leave me. How do you propose I impress her?"

"You know her ... Can't you think of something?"

James shrugged.

"Will you set your house on fire so I can rescue her?"

He lifted his teacup, spilling tea down his pyjamas.

"Even if you did that, I don't think I could compete in rescue attempts with ... _you know who_," he said, looking sulky.

"Is that what you are going to call him from now on?" Sirius laughed.

James shot a dark glance at him.

"Do you reckon I'm ungrateful?"

"That's Lily, mate."

"Well, she is wrong. It has nothing to do with _him_. It is entirely about her! I simply can't let her do it! I understand her motivations, but it is still too dangerous for her to ..."

His voice trailed away, and he stared at the empty plate in front of him as though the solution to a complicated problem was hidden somewhere in the flowery pattern. Then he closed his eyes and pressed both his hands against his face. He heard his friend's anxious words from far away.

"Prongs, old boy, are you all right?"

"Just a minute," he murmured faintly. "It will go away."

"You can't do much to stop her, I'm afraid," said Sirius, when James was able to resume the conversation. "But don't worry. I'll be there - I'll follow her as doggedly as only a guard dog can."

"You have no permission. The rules -"

"The rules! Since when does a dog need permission?"

"She will not concede."

"I can try all the same."

"No!" said James in a loud voice, his features turning suddenly lively. "I have a better idea."

* * *

Mary and Snape were slowly descending into the cave. After a quick breakfast by the pond, Snape had successfully managed to build a rope bridge from the shore to the cave exactly as he had seen Lupin do it. (He had used the leaves of a magical plant found in abundance in the forest, remembering what Lupin had told them about the magic in a conversation back in Black's house.) He had also tried to persuade Mary to stay on the shore, to which she had replied that staying alone on the shore was not necessarily less dangerous than going with Snape into the cave; consequently they kept looking for the trails of the two Death Eaters together.

When they reached a more or less horizontal passageway, Snape took the eye-shaped stone from his pocket and peered at it. The stone was electric blue and solid, and so it remained, no matter how he turned it around between his fingers. It showed him nothing; and after several minutes of experimenting, they had to accept the fact that the Stone of Loss had either lost its magic or refused to work for them.

Before this bitter surprise, Snape had thought the job relatively easy: He would scan the cave with the Stone, and if he spotted Mulciber and Avery, they would simply ambush the probably exhausted and weakened Death Eaters. If he could not discover Avery and Mulciber anywhere, he would conclude they were not in the cave. Now, however, the task was significantly more complicated and time-consuming.

Naturally, he could cast a _Homenum revelio_, but the sheer size of the cave made it unlikely that a single spell would cover the whole area. Worse still, the magic might be noticed by the discovered person. On top of everything else, finding their way around the cave would also be rather difficult without the Stone.

"We will mark the walls as we go," he decided.

"But the marks can betray our presence," Mary said.

"We have to risk that," he answered. "We would never find our way back without them."

He directed his wand at the passage wall, where an arrow appeared instantly, just barely visible, pointing in the direction of the exit. He also cast a Four-Point Spell, noting that the exit was on the north side of the cave. Then they walked on, marking the wall of the cave at every junction point, whispering _Homenum revelio_ from time to time, but to no avail.

"Severus," said Mary when they had been ascending and descending, crawling and climbing (often using the rope), for hours already. "Don't you think we are alone in this cave?"

But Snape's wand was at that moment signalling something.

"Look," Snape breathed. "That's the direction. Someone is over there."

He turned off the wandlight and walked ahead as silently as he could, Mary following him. At the end of the passage, they seemed to arrive at a dead end at first, since the way was blocked by another wall, but as Snape began feeling the rough surface around him, he discovered a narrow opening, a crevice at the bottom of the opposing wall. There was light on the other side. Very quietly, he cast a Sharp Senses Charm on himself before crouching down. Mary did the same.

Snape held his breath as he peered thought the crevice. The light came from quite far away - he was looking down at a spacious cave chamber many feet below him, but thanks to his improved sight and hearing, he was able to observe everything clearly. Still, it took him a while to recognize the chamber: It was the one where the water was dripping from the underground spring, but it had considerably changed since he had last seen it.

The chamber was now equipped with candles, blankets, sleeping bags, dishes and what seemed to be a quite well-stocked larder on one side. Fire was crackling in the middle, a large pot floating above it, and Snape could smell the aroma of the food in it. A tiny figure was standing on a projection of the wall near the fire, apparently stirring the contents of the pot from a distance by making the wooden spoon in the pot go round. The creature had large ears and a long, thin nose and was wearing a sort of poncho made of a moth-eaten tablecloth.

Not far from the fire, a slightly ragged, scruffy-looking man was sniffing the air.

"How much longer is it going to take yet?" he asked gruffly. "I'm hungry."

With a jolt, Snape recognized Mulciber's voice.

"Zippy hurries but good meal takes time. Dinner is not served before Master orders Zippy to serve it," the house-elf squeaked in an incredibly high-pitched voice.

Snape noted that the creature was far too small even for a house-elf.

"When was the last time you tried to take us out of here?" Mulciber asked.

"Only yesterday," squealed the elf with obvious terror. "Zippy comes and goes as Master wishes, Zippy brings Master things, but Zippy is too young to transport big wizards, as Master and Master's friend knows! Master must waits years for Zippy's power to grow full. Why Master is giving poor Zippy impossible order every day?"

"Didn't you forget to punish yourself for the failure?" Mulciber said, his voice vibrating with undisguised delight.

"Zippy is not forgetting!" the house-elf answered indignantly. "Zippy is putting his hands into the fire three times!"

"Next time you should burn your feet, not your hands, you stupid little monster. Your hands are much more useful than your feet."

"Zippy is travelling fast and far to find all Master's friends for him! Not Zippy's fault that master's friends is not able to come and help! Zippy wants to go to wizards who is coming to enchanted island and beg them to rescue Master, only Master is not wanting!"

"Good idea, setting the aurors on us. Would you like to land us in Azkaban? Perhaps you would even go to Dumbledore, you nasty little sneak!"

"Zippy is not knowing Dumbledore!" said the elf.

"Your didn't receive a very good education in the Avery House," sneered Mulciber, "if you don't even know who Dumbledore is - the fool of Hogwarts, friend of Muggles and Mudbloods, enemy of the Dark Lord and of all true wizards!"

"Master's wicked friend knows that Zippy is freeing them both from the tent!" the elf squeaked.

"But only to leave us buried here, while you can go in and out every day, you silly baboon."

"Master's wicked friend must remembers that Zippy is not a full-grown house elf -"

"If you are not careful, you will _never_ be a full-grown house elf," Mulciber growled menacingly.

"Wizards needs Zippy. Wizards would dies of hunger without Zippy. Good elf does all Master's orders and poor old Mistress's orders, only poor old Mistress is too feeble to call Zippy to her side."

"Soon your master will be too feeble to give you orders as well," Mulciber snarled, casting a disgusted look towards a corner. "I hope he knows it's his turn today."

Snape followed Mulciber's glance, and caught sight of a thick sleeping bag by the wall, evidently occupied by someone.

"Snoring like a steam engine all the time," Mulciber fumed. "Kicking him was useless. You should not bring him any more Firewhisky."

"Master orders Firewhisky, and Zippy must brings Firewhisky," snapped the house-elf.

"You could disobey him," said Mulciber. "if you punished yourself afterwards. It would be for your master's own good."

"Zippy's mother is arguing with Master for Master's own good and look what is happening to her! And now her orphaned child does a grown house-elf's jobs!"

The tiny creature began wailing miserably.

"Enough," growled a throaty voice from the sleeping bag. "What is done is done. Did I not order you to stop whining about it?"

Zippy let out a sharp shriek, turned towards the wall and hit his head several times against the rock. Mulciber laughed.

"Is that all you can do?" he said with cruel sarcasm. "I bet it did not even hurt. Avery, why don't you tell him to hold his filthy tongue for at least a day? That would be fun to watch."

The house-elf silently massaged his forehead in obvious pain.

"How long have house-elves been serving the Avery family?" Mulciber inquired, sitting down next to his friend.

"They came with my mother," Avery barked. "When her family became extinct in the male line, we inherited their elf. Zippy's mother never cared much for my father."

Snape had seen enough - and the Sharp Senses Charm was wearing off anyway. He drew back from the crevice. Mulciber and Avery were too far away for him to send curses at them through the opening. He had to find a way to approach them unnoticed and without getting lost in the cave.


	24. The Elf and his Master

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 24**

_The Elf and his Master_

The passageway leading to the crevice branched at several points, and each branching passage appeared to be particularly difficult to climb, while there was no way to tell which - if any - would lead them to their destination.

"I must explore these passages," Snape said to Mary. "You can wait for me here."

He knew that Mary was probably tired; still he was expecting at least some degree of objection to the idea of separation. But Mary gave no response. Snape was trying to decide which way to go first; and it took him some time to notice her uncharacteristic silence. She had not even lit her wand again, although they did not have to worry that the Death Eaters might glimpse the faint light so far away. Had she fallen asleep?

Snape turned the light of his wand towards her. Mary was sitting by the wall, doing nothing in particular, except peering into the darkest corner of the passage. When the wandlight fell on her, she stared fixedly on the ground so that Snape could not see her face.

"It is all right if you want to rest," he said tentatively.

"I'm not tired," she answered in a dull, colourless, emotionless voice. "And I don't want to rest. Tell me where we are going."

She stood up. Snape felt a pang of ... Fear? Worry? Or something else? He was not sure.

"Mary, what happened?"

"Nothing."

He was getting angry.

"Did I do something? If I did, you'd better tell me at once and get it over with. There is not much time."

"No, Severus ... I'm sorry. It's not you."

That was good at least. And yet, something was definitely the matter...

"It is about .... him. Mulciber. His voice. I did not except it would affect me, but it does."

"His voice?"

"The way he taunted that unhappy elf .... He had taunted me, too. He is so cruel... Evil, Severus, he is evil! It all came back when I heard his voice ... I feel just like ... _then_."

_We don't have time for this_. That was the reaction dictated by common sense, by Snape's own interest, by life instinct even. But _he_ had asked her about the cause of her distress. She had not wanted to mention it in the first place, _he_ had forced her. Now it seemed only right to try and comfort her; but her tearless, cold desperation was like a wall as impenetrable as those of the cave.

He did not know how long he was standing, facing her, unable to say a word, and hating Mulciber with all his heart, but it was an awkwardly long time, and finally something _had to happen_ - unless time itself had stopped forever.

"He'll pay for it," he said therefore, knowing perfectly well how hollow that must have sounded to her.

But he had no better idea, and she, after all, was trying to put on a brave face.

"You are right," Mary replied seriously. "We are not here to contemplate the past."

Her politeness did not deceive him. He understood that he had failed not only to comfort her, but to say anything meaningful at all. _Mulciber will pay for that, too,_ he thought, and walked ahead, choosing a random passageway.

"We have already been here," Mary said a good half an hour later, pointing at a faint arrow on the cave wall.

The physical exercise must have done her good - the wall of desperation around her had melted away by the time they crossed what seemed to be a natural bridge over a chasm between two cave chambers. Stalactites were hanging from the roof, providing something to hold on to, but she clearly preferred Snape's outstretched hand to the stalactites when the bridge narrowed dangerously towards the end.

Now they were at a junction point from which various passageways started, and they had indeed been there. Snape was able to identify the passage which they had taken before. Apart from that, he had been at this spot earlier, too ... with Lily. No wonder, because this was the way towards the exit - but since they had found the Stone of Loss in the chamber where Avery and Mulciber at the moment happened to be, there had to be a way between the junction and the chamber - a way that he knew - but which passage was it?

He had to remember - to recall which way they had come, to evoke the structure of the cave as he had seen it with the Stone. How useful a Pensieve would be now ... He would be able to see everything again exactly as it had happened. He was feeling the walls - perhaps the touch of the surface could help him remember... stone, stone, stone. He might have fallen into a huge Pensieve, like a mere memory to be viewed by whoever was thinking him up... Or maybe the magic of the cave was affecting his mind.

But - no. He remembered. He recognized the way, the one where he and Lily had come to this junction... He remembered how he had seen its significance with the Stone. He had seen it without understanding it. He had only realized that it was the way to get out. But now ... now he understood the secret of the cave. He knew already why it was so difficult, almost impossible, to find the way out for anyone sent there by Dumbledore's magic.

"Follow me," he whispered to Mary, and squeezed himself into a narrow opening, the beginning of an extremely narrow passage with a very low ceiling.

"This way?" she whispered back warily. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me," he answered, and went ahead.

After a while, his boots were splashing in water, but this was also familiar. Mary gasped.

"It is all right," he said. "We are crossing an underground creek. It is ankle-deep only."

When they had left the creek behind, the passage took a sharp turn to the left and there they reached the other end of the passageway, another narrow opening, even narrower than the first one, which, because of the bend directly behind it, appeared to hide nothing but a small hollow in the rock to anyone looking at it from the other side and without the recently lost magic of the eye-shaped stone. And yet, this dark, narrow opening was the only way leading from there to here - the only way connecting what were in fact _two_ more or less separate caves.

Quite precisely, there must have been some other connection between them, the one that Dumbledore's magic used when it threw the unwelcome visitor into the second cave, which probably had no exit of its own. There must have been a way through which people could _fall_ into the second cave - like some gigantic chimney or something similar, but who would be able to observe _that_ while hurtling through the darkness at that speed? Coming back in the same way, however, was impossible without a flying vehicle; and anyone attempting to climb out of the cave would have to go through that particular narrow opening, which did not look significantly different from many other narrow openings - yet it was unique.

On the other side, it became instantly evident that they were not alone any more. The cave walls were marked, often with multiple marks in different shapes, bearing witness to the Death Eaters' continued efforts to discover a way out. Snape kept the wandlight to the minimum as they moved forward quietly.

They still had to find the large chamber where they had seen Mulciber and Avery, and it could still prove to be a difficult task. In the end, it proved quite easy. There was a rather long way to go yet, but they soon noticed a series of apparently fresh marks along their way.

Someone must have walked past those walls maybe only minutes earlier. Snape beckoned to Mary, and they followed the marks, which led them to a wall and pointed upwards. That was bad news - anyone could spot them from above easily while they were climbing. Snape extinguished the light of his wand, and pulled Mary aside.

"We must Disillusion ourselves," he said. "Quietly."

But they could have done the necessary magic as noisily as they wanted because the next moment there was a loud thump as though something heavy had fallen on the rocky ground, and immediately they heard the rattling of pebbles and stones rolling down the wall.

Debris was showering down on them, Mary struggled with a cough, and they ran for shelter.

"ZIPPY!"

Avery's cry echoed in the cave. When the stones and pebbles were silent again, they could hear the elf's response quite close.

"Zippy is here to help Master!"

A torch was lit, casting its light on a large figure and a small figure.

"You must always come with me when I explore, do you understand?" Avery grunted.

"Zippy comes," said the house elf. "Zippy is cleaning up in the Great Chamber, but maybe Master's friend can tries to finish it by himself."

"Or you will clean up later. Come on."

Mulciber was alone in the Great Chamber! Snape decided at once. It was an easy choice. He was much more interested in Mulciber than in Avery, who was helped by the elf, which made him more dangerous at the moment than he otherwise would have been.

He took Mary's hand in the darkness and cautiously led her backwards. He walked very slowly - if any of them slipped, they would be discovered instantly, and he did not want to give up the advantages of a surprise attack. He only lit the wand when he was absolutely certain that Avery could not see the light any more. Now all they had to do was following the marks left by Avery on the wall, which led them directly to the chamber. Soon they did not need the wandlight: Candlelight was streaming from the Great Chamber, illuminating their path.

Disillusioned, Snape stole into the chamber quietly. He could not believe his luck: Mulciber was lying by the fire, fast asleep.

"Stay here," he told Mary and tiptoed close to the Death Eater.

He looked down at the sleeping dark wizard, directing his wand at him. Mulciber was obviously not afraid that aurors or Order members might turn up to capture them. Snape's glance swept over the lanky figure and lingered on the right hand. There, on the talon-like ring finger, was the snake-patterned ring with the black stone.

"Good morning," Snape said loudly.

The Death Eater's eyes sprang open, and that was all he had time for. Disarming and binding him was almost too easy. The real struggle came afterwards.

"Mr Caulis," hissed Snape, but Mulciber did not respond, and their eyes locked in a silent duel of willpower.

Snape summoned all the power he could master to break the defences of Mulciber's mind, who, however, knew how to resist and remained blank-faced. After several minutes of intense and exhausting concentration, the duel ended with Snape's victory: He only caught a flash of a memory, but it was enough for him. Nor was there time for more: Avery was still free, and although Snape did not really need Avery, he wanted to rule out the possibility of being tailed by his elf following some mischievous plan.

"I must find Avery now," he said to Mary.

"I'm going with you."

Snape considered the offer briefly. He did not like to leave her behind, but he wanted to finish the job quickly and Mary looked worn out. There was no use in dragging her along. Avery would no doubt meet his match in him, the elf notwithstanding.

"If I don't come back in an hour," he said, "don't worry about Mulciber, just get through the narrow opening where we came, and follow the signs to the exit. Don't reveal yourself to Mulciber or anyone. This is important."

"You don't think I would leave you here!" she protested.

"If anything happens to me," Snape continued, "don't start fighting alone, and don't forget that they have an elf, who can leave the island. You must go to Dumbledore or to someone else in the Order immediately. If you can, tell them that Mulciber committed the crime I am accused of."

"Did he confess?"

"He did not have to say it," said Snape. "I found proof of it."

"The ring?" she breathed.

"The ring," Snape nodded, "and his memory of the murder."

Mary's face clouded over.

"You mean you read his mind?"

"I used Legilimency on him," Snape explained. "But this is not important now -"

"LIKE YOU-KNOW-WHO?"

"Yes, but -"

Mary was staring at him horrified.

"Not important? _He_ did that to me on a daily basis, and it hurt! I could not resist, he saw through me like a piece of glass! I felt helpless and robbed! I can't believe that you do ... that you _can_ do the same!"

"I thought," said Snape coldly, "that Mulciber was an evil Death Eater, whose cruelty had left you with tormenting memories. I thought you wanted to help me prove that I am not a murderer!"

"Of course," Mary answered quickly. "But this is not about Mulciber. It is about you, Severus. You are not like them... it cannot be..."

"The Dark Lord is a powerful Legilimens," he said quietly. "Dumbledore is another one. I also happen to possess this highly useful skill, and I must find out the truth now."

Mary seemed unable to reply, and Snape did not want to continue the conversation.

"I must go after Avery. Alone. You can start the climb towards the exit or wait for me here."

"Fine," Mary whispered without looking at him. "I'll stay here to guard Mulciber until you come back."

So Snape followed the marks on the walls again. He was feeling angry and offended. But the further he went, the more was his anger mingled with disquiet. He was not sure any more that it was a good idea to leave Mary alone with Mulciber. Then again, Mulciber was tightly bound, silenced, and his wand was in Snape's pocket. Mary had a wand, and the elf was helping Avery, therefore guarding Mulciber was a much safer job than what Snape was going to attempt. If _he_ succeeded, Mary could come to no harm. He had to succeed.

He cast another Disillusionment Charm on himself before starting to climb the wall. The stones scrunched beneath his feet, but Avery was probably way ahead of him, and he had to hurry. The Death Eater was not on the top of the wall, but Snape found his marks again. In the end, he caught up with the unsuspecting wizard sooner than he had expected.

Avery was apparently taking a rest. He was sitting in a small, flat cave chamber with his back propped against the wall, and he had taken off his boots. A torch was floating in the air in front of him. The elf was out of sight.

Snape could certainly understand why someone would want to rest after all that difficult climb - his feet hurt, too. But as he glanced round, he immediately realized that Avery had yet another reason to stop. The place where they had arrived would have been a dead end for most people, even if they were wizards. There were rocky walls on most sides, except for the passage where they had come from and the opposite side, where the ground slightly sloped down, and the wall was missing. The torchlight illuminated the rather splendid view of a waterfall cascading from above into some deep abyss below.

Even a wizard had to be reasonably skilled in certain branches of magic to be able to find a way to go on - and before attempting anything, Avery obviously had to ask himself if there was any point in going on. Jumping into the waterfall, for example, was unlikely to take him any closer to the exit, which Snape supposed Avery was looking for.

Although Snape was Disillusioned, he could not be perfectly silent. Avery jerked his head up and turned around. Seeing nothing, he began to listen.

"Avery," said Snape calmly. "I am here."

He removed the Disillusionment Charm.

"W-what do y-you w-want?" Avery stammered, trying to get up, clearly frightened.

"I have come to take you out of this cave," Snape replied. "Will you come with me?"

"Leave me alone," Avery groaned, gripping his wand. "Stupify!"

A second too late, he was promptly thrown back by Snape's Shield Charm, but he swiftly rolled out of Snape's way.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Snape shouted, whirling around, but Avery leapt behind a thick stalagmite just in time.

Snape could only see the tip of his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

They shouted at the same time. Almost. By the time Avery finished the Killing Curse, his wand had flown out of his hand, changing the course of the deadly curse. Avery dived to catch it, but he slipped and slid uncontrollably down the slope. Snape ran after him even as he saw Avery disappear in the chasm.

He thought it was over - but then he heard a moan and simultaneously he caught sight of the dark wizard dangling from the precipice, holding onto the rock with one hand only.

"Zi-" Avery whispered, but his voice stuck in his throat as he was suddenly turned upside down and hoisted up towards the curtain of water, like a huge marionette, by a nonverbal spell.

Standing on the edge, Snape was watching his former schoolmate without blinking.

_Liberacorpus_, he thought, and Avery began descending in free fall. Snape cast a levitation spell just in time to be able to direct Avery back into the chamber. He fell down at Snape's feet, precisely on the edge of the abyss. The series of magic was topped off by a binding spell, though Snape could tell that Avery would not have dared to move even if he had not been bound.

"I did not do anything to you," Avery whimpered. "It was Mulciber alone. The Dark Lord gave him the job."

"You have just wanted to kill me," said Snape.

"I was scared ... I thought _you_ were going to kill me."

"A guilty conscience?" Snape asked in a silky voice. "As you see, I have saved your life. You are in my debt."

"You probably had a reason to do it," groaned Avery after a spell of silence.

"Probably," Snape agreed readily. "But the fact remains a fact."

"Don't you want to kill me then?"

"I am not interested in you very much," Snape said. "A small movement is enough now and you are dead. But I'm quite willing to let you live. What is more, I can take you out of this cave. But I want something in return."

Avery did not seem reassured.

"Where do you want to take me?"

"Surely this cannot be a question," Snape replied. "You are already imprisoned here anyway."

"Rather here than with the Dementors."

"I grant you, they are abominable creatures. But Mulciber is hardly better, and one day, Dumbledore will come here to check on this cave. I don't think you will be equal to negotiating with _him_. However, if you insist on staying here, you can stay. I only need Mulciber, and I don't want you to interfere with my plans regarding him."

"I'll never ... I swear -" Avery began, but Snape's expression silenced him.

"I need more than your word," he said.

"Anything you want ... I'll help you capture Mulciber."

"I don't need your help. I want something else."

Snape's wand made a hardly perceptible movement, and Avery inched towards the waterfall slightly. The Death Eater took the hint.

"Whatever it is, consider it done."

"Where is your elf?" Snape asked. "Call him here now."

Avery apparently liked the idea.

"Zippy!"

Snape directed his wand straight between Avery's eyes.

"Tell him to stay put."

"Don't do anything, Zippy," Avery muttered reluctantly to the elf, who had just arrived with a bottle of Firewhisky in his hands, and was now gaping at the two wizards open-mouthed.

"I need your elf," said Snape.

"You can borrow him," Avery answered hurriedly. "No problem."

"You misunderstand. I don't want to borrow him. I want this elf for my own."

A tiny little squeak came from Zippy's direction, but Snape had no time to wonder whether it was the sign of fear, surprise or objection.

"Impossible," said Avery in a cool, superior manner, although he was visibly shocked at first. "House-elves are bound to the house and to the family."

"Your elf cannot be particularly attached to the Avery House," Snape said. "His ancestors never belonged there. The house that he could be bound to does not exit any more. I heard how it had been burned to the ground."

Avery turned a shade paler, but he did not give up.

"Then he must stay with the family. Is that so, Zippy?"

"Master is right."

The elf's voice trembled.

"Zippy must not leaves his family."

"No one wants you to leave your family," said Snape.

"Forget the idea then. I have no sisters you could marry," sneered Avery, but he recoiled as Snape's wand, still between his eyes, made a dangerous movement.

"As if I needed that!" Snape snapped. "Your house-elf does not belong to the Averys. He belongs to the descendants of the Princes, as you know very well. You can give him to me. My mother was a Prince, just like yours."

"Sir is a family member?" an astonished Zippy chimed in.

"You never saw the Prince House in your life," Avery snarled with disdain.

"My mother, Eileen Prince, who was your mother's cousin, told me about it," Snape said in an icy tone. "But that is beside the point."

"You're the son of a Muggle! A disgrace to the Princes, like your mother!"

"Speaking about disgrace ... Isn't the pot calling the kettle black?" Snape retorted. "And there are no rules preventing me from owning a family house-elf."

"Ridiculous! You were never part of the family and you know it!"

"My mother was once. And so was I, as far as you were concerned, whenever you wanted to copy my homework at school. You called me _cousin_ then. It is time to pay up. And don't forget your fresh life-debt to me."

"Master has a life debt?" the elf inquired in a very small voice.

"None of your business," Avery grunted, but the elf did not stop.

"Sir's mother was Miss Eileen? Old Mistress Prince's youngest grandchild?"

Snape cast a sharp glance at Zippy.

"You never met my mother's grandmother. Or my mother even."

The elf became surprisingly excited.

"Zippy's granny is telling Zippy all about the Prince House! Zippy remembers stories of cute little Miss Eileen!"

Snape would never have thought of his mother as cute, and the elf's chirping annoyed him. He was beginning to suspect that even a successful business would have drawbacks this time; but he did not trust Avery, therefore he had to neutralize the elf's power, and this was the only way he could think of if he did not want to hurt this chatty underage servant.

"What shall I do here without Zippy?" Avery wailed.

"You don't have to stay here," said Snape. "But if you _wish_ to stay, I will allow Zippy to look after you as long as you are here. Hurry up. Remember I don't need you alive at all."

The Death Eater tilted towards the precipice a little.

"Zippy!" Avery yelled out. "Do something!"

Zippy jumped in front of Avery and bowed to Snape.

"Sir, please, forgive Master. Master and Zippy wants to honour the life-debt Master owes you. Master's debt is Zippy's debt, too. Please, don't hurt Master."

"Zippy!" Avery cried in frustration.

"I am glad that your elf feels honour bound to refrain from attacking your rescuer," said Snape waspishly. "You made a promise, Avery."

His eyes bored into Avery's, and slowly Avery turned his head away.

"Zippy," he growled. "This is your new master. In exchange for my life and to redeem my life-debt to him, I want you to become his house-elf and to serve him faithfully as long as you live."

He looked at Snape again.

"Will you set me free at last?"

Snape hesitated. He wanted to be certain of his ownership.

"Tell me what you think of your former master, Zippy," he said.

Zippy quivered as he spoke.

"Zippy is never allowed to say it before ... Bad young master is ... murdering Zippy's mother!"

He raised his little index finger and pointed accusingly at Avery. He showed no regret or remorse after saying those harsh words.

"I may not be your master, but I still belong to your family, Zippy," said Avery fiercely.

Zippy gaped at Avery, then at Snape, and began pulling his own ears violently.

"I thought I _ordered_ you to voice your opinion," Snape said sharply.

Zippy let go of his ears, his expression reflecting a mixture of relief and bewilderment.

Snape released Avery from the ropes.

"You must stay here," he ordered. "I warn you that you will be very sorry if you try to sneak after us. Zippy, give him his Firewhisky, and follow me."

"Master..." squeaked the elf, hurrying after Snape, but he turned silent when he heard his _former_ master's words.

"Hurry up with that whisky. Didn't you hear your orders?"

Zippy stepped to Avery, and handed him the bottle. Avery grabbed it with one hand and poured an enormous portion of its contents down his throat in one large gulp.

"Zippy!" he spat. "You disloyal scum..."

It all happened very quickly. Snape was about to leave, to hurry back to Mary and Mulciber, when a suspicious noise made him turn. Avery had seized the elf and was now throwing him over the edge of the abyss. Snape was dashing back before he had time to consciously realize what he was witnessing.

"Accio Zippy!" he shouted, wand held ahead.

The diminutive figure continued falling rapidly. The spell did not help. Snape knew that house-elves had their own magic, but apparently Zippy was not doing anything to save himself as his former master was murdering him.

It clicked so suddenly that later Snape was never able to recall how the solution had struck him.

"ZIPPY!" he roared. "COME BACK!"

The house-elf had not reached the bottom yet. In response to the call, his body shot upwards like a rocket, and he soared towards his new master, following the strongest rule and basic instinct of his kind - to obey. He crashed headfirst into Snape at the very moment when Avery pushed Snape from behind. He would have fallen into the depth just like the elf before, but the impact of the collision with Zippy was stronger than the force of the push. As he fell back, Avery tumbled over, too, and Zippy landed on top of them. Soon tiny fists were beating furiously the Death Eater's face, until Snape took charge, and Avery was bound again.

"And that is the end of the deal between us," Snape said menacingly.

He turned to the elf.

"Zippy."

"Yes, Master," chirped the elf, eyes shining. "Master is saving Zippy's life."

"Don't mention it," Snape answered, well aware that Zippy had saved his, too. "Go out of the cave ... to the forest. You will find the wreck of a burned down ship there."

"Zippy knows the ship!" said the elf eagerly.

"Some refurbishment is in order ... Try what you can do. Basically, I want a couple of lockable cabins; that is all. Go at once. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," the elf replied but did not stir. "Master, Zippy has something important to say."

"Speak then."

"Master must hurries back to the Great Chamber! Master must goes very carefully and Master must really, really hurries!"


	25. Stronger than Magic

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J. K. Rowling. It is a pleasure to experiment with her characters.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 25**

_Stronger than __Magic_

"Hand over your wand. Now."

Mulciber was standing in the Great Chamber gripping Mary's wand. He was holding Mary at wandpoint in front of himself, a shield and a hostage, and he was glaring at Snape, who was glaring back at Mulciber and cursing inwardly. Instead of being careful, he had stormed into the chamber like a tornado (quite as mindlessly at any rate), and this was the result. He was unable to attack Mulciber, and the Death Eater was threatening Mary.

"Hand over your wand," Mulciber repeated. "Or else ..."

Mary was shaking her head frantically. Her hand and legs were bound and she had obviously been Silenced by Mulciber, and the wordless gesture was all she could manage.

"... watch what I can do to her."

Snape did not wait for Mulciber to elaborate. He dropped his wand.

"Coward! Leave her alone!"

Mulciber was quick, and Snape was instantly bound by strong ropes. Mulciber let go of Mary, and a minute later he was holding his own wand, while Snape's wand and Mary's wand were in his belt.

"Let's talk," he said.

He removed the Silencing Charm from Mary.

"How did you come into the cave?"

Neither of them answered. Mulciber did not seem to mind.

"Do you know the way out? Can you go out as you came?"

"We might," Snape replied warily. "But I don't see why that interests you."

Mulciber laughed.

"You know exactly what I mean, Snape. This may not be the reason why you have come, but you are the ones who will take me out of here. It's a rather boring place, you know. Or at least it has been boring so far..."

He traced his wand along Snape's body. Snape was staring at him without blinking.

"I will show you the way out," Snape said, "on one condition."

Mulciber put his wand under Snape's chin, and pushed his head up.

"I can't hear you properly. For a moment I thought you used the word _condition_."

"You will be much better off," Snape hissed, "if I help you willingly. You can walk free. Release Mary. Let her leave unharmed, and I will help you get away from this cave."

He knew that unless he managed to arrive in Azkaban before the magic he had left there wore off, he would officially become an escaped prisoner. Without being able to hand over Mulciber, he saw little chance of convincing the Wizengamot of the truth - if he ever got to see the council, which would be a near miracle now. But perhaps Mary could still escape if he was clever enough.

But Mulciber laughed again.

"I'm not such a fool! If I let her go, she would bring the aurors on me; no, thank you very much! I don't want them to wait for me at the mouth of the cave."

"How do you know they are not there already?" Snape snapped.

Mulciber seemed startled at first, but then he sneered.

"If they were there, they would be inside as well!"

"Perhaps they _are_ inside," said Snape.

"That's a bluff. If they were here, they would not have sent the two of you ahead! No one is here to help you, and you will just have to follow my orders. My contentment or displeasure will decide your fate. What happened to Avery?"

"I'm afraid you will just have to go and find it out."

Mulciber shrugged.

"It is not _so_ important. What counts is that I want to leave this hole and you will help me."

"While bound and wandless, we will hardly be able to oblige," Snape said. "The cave is rather tricky."

Mulciber nodded.

"Fair enough. Don't worry; you will get back your wand when it becomes necessary.... Of course, you must earn my trust first. You must be _very_ ... obedient."

He pointed his wand at Snape.

"Imperio!"

Snape saw the curse coming, but the ropes were tight and he had no chance to duck. All he had time for was a desperate effort to close down his mind just as the curse hit him. Immediately it seemed that all his thoughts were wiped away, and nothing could bother him any more. It was a relief to be rid of all his worries. He felt empty and open and cool and indifferent. There was nothing to think about, perhaps nothing to think with...

Mulciber flicked his wand, and the ropes fell off Snape.

"Come closer, Snape," he heard the Death Eater's rough voice. "This way."

Mulciber's words were echoed in his head by a soft, persuasive, almost seductive voice.

He took a few steps, just barely aware of his surroundings, when he found himself face-to-face with Mary. She was pale and looked at him with a very peculiar expression, which Snape could not explain.

"Very well," said Mulciber, "and now - you will punch her. In the face. As hard as you can."

The soft, persuasive voice in his head - the voice of the curse - repeated the instructions.

"Punch her in the face ... as hard as you can ... it is easy ... you will feel fine, you will feel happy if you obey."

"I know you don't want to do it," Mary whispered. "I am not blaming you. Afterwards ... remember that."

He was staring at her neither wanting, nor being able to determine what she was communicating.

"Do as you are told," Mulciber commanded behind his back. " Now!"

The voice of the curse kept chattering in his head, but he could hear another voice, a clear, stern and familiar voice coming from the depth of his mind, coming from behind the voice of the curse, from behind the seductive void.

"This is Dark Magic, Sev... Evil ..."

The clear, stern voice became louder, and Snape's head began aching. The blissful emptiness was over, only the soft, coaxing voice reminded him of it.

"Hit her..." it said, and Snape slowly raised his arm.

"Resist..." warned the stern voice. "Be yourself ... Do the right thing."

He saw Mary close her eyes, and his brain seemed to be about to burst into flames. The clear voice was getting painfully loud, whilst the other voice was getting ever softer. He tried to concentrate ... Then he turned around, and his fist came down with such force that he had never thought he possessed.

Mulciber fell on the ground, and both voices disappeared from Snape's head, leaving nothing but blind fury and a mad desire to kill...

He was not a wrestler though, and Mulciber was rather strong for his lanky figure. The wrath clouding Snape's mind did not help in the long run. But worst of all, Mulciber still had all the wands. As a result, a few minutes later Snape was bound again, and Mulciber, quite forgetting his wizard dignity, gave him a couple of non-magical, nevertheless painful kicks, which could have made any Muggle bully-boy proud.

The Death Eater was livid. He was not used to such spectacular failures of his favourite curse. He unbound Mary and dragged her to Snape. Snape's countenance was blank and unreadable. He did not want Mary to see his feelings, although he was being tormented by the thought that Mary would also have to pay for what had happened.

"Both of you must learn obedience," Mulciber snarled. "Otherwise I cannot trust you with the services that I am expecting from you."

He glowered at Mary, his wand directed firmly at her.

"Your friend attacked me, therefore he must be punished. The question is what exactly I will do to him."

Mary was staring at Snape. Contrary to his, her pale cheeks were an easily readable picture of fear and despair.

"The decision is in _your_ hands," Mulciber continued. "If you are obedient, his punishment will be light. If you resist my wishes and my orders, you will make life _really_ difficult for him. It all depends on you."

Mary was chalk-white, and Snape's stomach became a tiny, tight knot. Then Mary cast a pleading look at Mulciber, who responded with a triumphant sneer.

"Empty words," Snape said, glancing up at her. His voice did not tremble at all. "You can't do anything for me, Mary. Don't even think about it. I _don't want_ you to think about it."

He did not like the expression of desperate determination in her eyes. He needed a stronger word.

"I _forbid_ you to think about it!"

Grabbing Mary's arm, Mulciber waved his wand, and Snape felt as though he had been lashed with a whip - but the real torture was to see Mulciber touch Mary, whose gaze - now cold and glassy - was steadily fixed on him.

"How do you imagine you can motivate us to help you," Snape snapped as soon as he was able to speak, "if we both are tortured anyway and you don't even promise to spare either of us in return? What would we gain by showing you the way?"

Mary freed herself from the wizard's grip and started towards Snape suddenly, but she could not reach him. The Death Eater, his features distorted by anger, raised his wand.

"Serpensortia!"

A huge snake shot out of the wand, landing between Mary and Snape. She backed away and remained petrified, watching the animal. Snape knew that Mulciber was not going to kill them. Not yet. Mulciber was not Avery; he would be smart enough to keep them alive while he needed them. But the look of terror on Mary's countenance made it clear that she was not thinking along such practical lines. Mulciber was apparently enjoying the spectacle. Mulciber _was aware_ that Mary was afraid of snakes ... Snape was almost piercing the beast with his glare, hoping that it would sense the intensity of the stare.

It did. It turned away from Mary and was now undulating towards Snape, who did not take his gaze off it. Mulciber would wait until the last moment, naturally, but then the snake would disappear. One more second and it would vanish...

But what did happen a second later was something that neither Snape nor Mulciber had anticipated. With a scream that must have shaken the rocky walls of the cave, Mary dashed forward and seized the snake with her bare hands; then, still within the same scream, she wheeled round and flung it into Mulciber's face. The Death Eater yelled.

Mary fell down next to Snape, who thought she was going to faint. But she did not faint. Instead, she began undoing the knots of the rope binding him. Her hands were shaking.

"Run," Snape whispered to her. "Go through the narrow opening. If you are quick, he will not find you afterwards."

In the meantime, Mulciber managed to get rid of the snake, which did not succeed in biting him. He was standing motionless, perhaps wondering which of his captives he should curse first. Mary, unable to free Snape, obeyed his instructions at last, and ran away. Snape, in vain struggling with the ropes, glanced after her. She was not running towards the exit at all. What was she doing then?

Mulciber made up his mind finally, and sprinted after Mary. Snape could not see them any more, but he heard Mary throwing things - maybe pieces of stone - at Mulciber, who was firing spells.

So she had missed her chance to escape ... Stones against a wand did not seem like a hopeful business, unless one was really lucky. Mary was distracting Mulciber's attention from him - but what was the point? Had she sacrificed herself only to temporarily relieve his physical suffering, or was she hoping that he might be able to do something if he was left alone?

Well, she was mistaken then. No matter how he tried, the ropes remained tight. There was nothing he could do ... Unless ... He drew in a deep breath. There _was_ something that he could still do...

"Crucio!" bellowed Mulciber.

"Zippy," breathed Snape.

"Be quiet," he added immediately as the elf arrived, a mute exclamation between his rounded lips. "Unbind me quickly."

By the time he pronounced the order, he had already been freed.

"Go," he said under his breath, as he leapt to his rather numb feet.

Zippy was gone, and Snape ran towards Mulciber, who had noticed nothing. Mary was standing by the wall, cornered, Mulciber's wand pointed at her.

"So," Mulciber was saying slowly, "let the fun begin... Imperio!"

Mary covered her head with her arms. The Unforgivable Curse burst out of the wand, but it did not reach her. It bumped into a rock instead, because a hand, attacking from behind, had unexpectedly twisted the Death Eater's wrist. Mulciber successfully shook off the attacker, but this time Snape did not allow himself to lose control. He knew exactly what he had to do, and although he did not manage to disarm the Death Eater, his own wand all but sprang into his hand, when he snatched it from Mulciber's belt.

Now each of them had a wand ... They were both practised in the art of wizard duel; and for a brief moment, Snape remembered the Potter gang with something close to gratitude - they had forced him to become good at fighting spells already at school. But Mulciber was a serious opponent, and shortly the walls themselves seemed to take part in the fight as the various magically conjured weapons from daggers to wreaths of flames flew around, interspersed with further Unforgivable Curses fired by Mulciber.

Snape did not waste time on Shield Charms: He jumped and ran and ducked and dived, but all the time he kept sending attacking spells towards Mulciber, whose defence strategy, however, was also quite effective.

Mary could not take part in the fight, since her wand was still in Mulciber's belt. She withdrew from the duellists to avoid the possibility of being used as a hostage again, and she collected more stones. She watched out for an opportunity to join the fight, but the two wizards were moving about so swiftly and unpredictably and very often so close to each other that she would have been as likely to hit the one as the other.

She was watching the duel therefore, ready for action, but her attention soon turned towards a burning sensation below her neck. She had been aware of the searing pain for a while, but she had not had time to pay attention to it. She realized that the source of the pain was the pendant on the chain around her neck. It was fiery hot, fluttering like a terrified bird, as though in agitation and pain. Mary's fingers locked around it. The heat burned the palm of her hand but she did not care. She kept gripping the pendant, ardently willing the curses to avoid Severus...

It was Mulciber who made a strategic mistake first, and he was instantly knocked unconscious by an ordinary Stunning Spell. Snape bound him, and took his wand.

He very nearly collapsed himself, due to tension and fatigue, but he heard Mary call out his name, and when he turned, he found that he could not let himself collapse. Not yet at least - not when she came running to him, not when she was looking at him with teary-eyed admiration, not when she broke into sobbing in front of him...

There was no way he could start thinking about how to respond. Once more his mind might have been wiped empty, this time with exhaustion. But his arms opened on their own, enfolding her into a comforting embrace, and it felt the right thing to do.

"It is over," he murmured. "He cannot hurt you... It is all over."

Mary stopped sobbing and stood still, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a minute. Then she raised her head.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I behaved horridly, I was so unreasonable..."

Snape was taken aback.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said to you horrible things about ... Legilimency ... I should not have. I'm sorry. I did not mean to ... to offend you. Of course you were right, and I don't even know ... why I told you those things."

The fight with Mulciber had made Snape completely forget their disagreement about Legilimency, and at the moment all he could feel was relief that she was safe, that he had succeeded in protecting her. Making peace was therefore easy and sweet.

"When you left," Mary continued, "I kept thinking about it, and I began to regret what I had said and that I had let you go alone. I tried to find you, but you were already far away. Then I thought I might lose my way, so I came back. By that time Mulciber had somehow got free and his attack took me completely by surprise. He seized my wand and Silenced my voice, and I was unable to warn you. I have no idea how he had been able to get rid of the ropes."

She glanced worriedly at the unconscious dark wizard as though afraid that he might free himself any minute.

"It was Zippy," Snape explained. "Avery's elf ... He had to fetch some Firewhisky for Avery when he found Mulciber. Even though Mulciber was not his master, he had been serving both these wizards for weeks, so, naturally, he thought it his duty to help."

"But he can do it again!" Mary cried.

"He will not," said Snape. "He is helping me now. I'll tell you later. It is time we left this place at last."

Getting out of the cave with the two captives was a difficult job. There were two of them, because Snape did not leave the bound Avery imprisoned alone, and he took a tedious detour just to pick him up. The two Death Eaters were levitating in an enchanted sleep before Mary and Snape, but navigating them through the various passages was time-consuming and tiresome.

"Could we use that pendant?" Snape asked with a sudden idea. "We all might get out more easily."

"That would be very difficult," said Mary, frowning. "And we could never use the pendant with _them_."

She indicated the Death Eaters.

"Why not?"

"Because its magic would be spoiled if it got into contact with them."

Snape had to be satisfied with this explanation, and they continued their slow climb through the cave. At least they did not get lost, and finally they reached the mouth of the cave. To Snape's surprise, it was not as late as he had supposed - the sun was just past the zenith. It was a glorious, balmy summer day. They crossed the rope bridge from the tiny island to the shore, and Mary stopped to admire the scenery from the very edge of the forest pool.

In the blink of an eye, she was in the deep, cool water. Snape saw her disappear under the surface. Without any hesitation, he jumped after her, drawing his wand and ready to rescue her. But she came up just as he plunged into the water, and laughed.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

Snape's mouth and nose were filled with water. The pool was crystal clear and indeed deep. It seemed Mary was the better swimmer of the two of them.

"I'm so glad you jumped in, too," she said. "I didn't dare to suggest ... but it _is_ refreshing, isn't it?"

And Snape remained wisely silent, allowing her to believe that he had rushed into the pool to swim rather than admit that he had thought she needed to be rescued.

When they climbed to the shore, they sat down, panting slightly, and he had no idea how he would be able to go on. The fight, the long climb in the cave and the swimming drained all his energy. Their robes were soaking wet and heavy, but at least this latter problem was easy to solve. A few lazy wand movements; and both of them were instantly dry. Then, at the tinkling sound of a silver bell, the horses appeared and took them to the wreck of the Silvana.

"Zippy!" Snape called.

The elf came running.

"Master!" he enthused. He bowed to Mary.

Snape found that Zippy was a dab hand at repairs. The Silvana was in a surprisingly good condition, equipped with running water and with several tolerably furnished cabins. Zippy had even repaired the damage done by Pettigrew, which no one had been able to mend before. Snape locked Avery and Mulciber into two separate cabins, which he fortified with a series of spells preventing the possibility of a breakout. Each of the two Death Eaters received a sleeping bag (Zippy apparently had an inexhaustible supply of them) and something to eat and drink, before Snape left them alone in their respective cabins.

After that, he allowed himself to sit down by a table on the open deck, where Zippy had served food and drinks. (The house-elf must have brought them from the Death Eaters' cave larder.) Mary was already sitting there, waiting for Snape, who, for all the previous physical exercise, had little appetite. He watched the green of the forest around them with a heavy heart.

"What shall we do next?" Mary asked at last, realizing that Snape was not going to start a conversation.

What he answered was very difficult to say; but he knew that he had only one way towards freedom.

"I must go back to Azkaban," he said.

"Already?" she asked quietly.

"As soon as possible," Snape answered. "The Dementors might discover my absence if I am late."

"Are you sure it is not late yet?"

Snape carefully pulled up his sleeve for a moment. The wound was still open on his arm.

"Quite sure."

"What was that?" Mary asked sharply. "You have been injured!"

"It is nothing to worry about," Snape replied. "Nothing at all."

Mary was eyeing him silently for a while, as though she could not fully believe that the open wound on his arm was "nothing". Snape pretended to be suddenly very interested in the bottle of Worcestershire sauce on the table.

"We can leave any time you want," she said finally. "If you need anything -"

"I need your help," said Snape. "I don't need anything else."

Mary's lips curled into a sad and twisted smile.

"What are your instructions then?"

Snape leaned closer to her, his expression grim.

"Mary, I don't want you to deal with these villains directly."

"You don't trust me," she said. "I should not be surprised. I failed to guard Mulciber."

"It is not a question of trust. But I don't like the idea. These two should be taken to a safer place, preferably to Dumbledore."

"I'll do my best to find him."

"It may take time," said Snape. "You need help. Someone you can trust."

"Moody? The Potters? Sirius? They are Order members."

Snape sighed.

"I wish Dumbledore came. In any case, we have someone we can depend on. Zippy!"

The elf was instantly there.

"Yes, Master."

"We are going to leave."

"Zippy goes with Master!"

"No," said Snape quickly. "That would not be a good idea. You must not look for me until I get back to the main island and call you there. This is an order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Zippy answered with little enthusiasm.

"But you will have a very important task. You must do everything in your power to help us take care of Avery and Mulciber. You will see to it that they remain safely captured. This is very important."

"Yes, Master!" Zippy said. "Zippy helps."

"Do you think you are up to this job?"

The elf squared his shoulders.

"Master will see!"

"Fine," said Snape. "And be careful. Don't go nearer to them than necessary."

Zippy bowed and hurried away.

"I like this elf," said Mary, smiling. "He is quite fond of you."

The warm summer weather did not extend to the vicinity of Azkaban. Snape and Mary felt colder and colder as they were approaching the fortress. Castor and Pollux were flying high up in the air, faster than any broomstick ever could. Once during their flight, Snape actually glimpsed a solitary broomstick flying way below them at a much slower speed than the horses.

They descended towards the prison, wearing Disillusionment Charms. Mary easily found the window of Snape's cell. She took off the chain and put it around Snape's neck. He closed his eyes without waiting for her instructions, and soon he could feel the already familiar warmth encasing him. He could hear again the music full of that strange beauty; and he experienced the magnetic attraction, too...

It was all quite relaxing until he heard Mary cry out, and he opened his eyes.

"I can't do it, Severus, I don't succeed!"

He glanced around. He was still on horseback, outside the window of the well-known Azkaban cell, a very worried Mary by his side. The wall was solid and impenetrable, the window likewise.

"I don't know what happened," Mary whispered. "Did you feel anything?"

"It was exactly the same as this morning," Snape answered. "Let's try again."

It suddenly occurred to him that Mary had said the magic could work only if he wanted it as well. He certainly wanted to _feel_ the magic - but really and truly wanting to go back to the Azakaban cell was not at all easy. So that was what he had to focus on.

The Dementors would not be interested in his reasons. If one of them caught him outside, it would kiss him without asking any questions. But the magic of the blood drops was still working; the open wound on his arm assured him of that. Through the window, he had also seen the Dementor barrier, its blue light still visible. To become free one day, he had to go back while he could do it safely, and he had to _want_ it now.

He summoned all the willpower he had, and yet, when the magic started anew, it still failed to yield the expected results - and this time Snape realized that despite all his efforts, the magnetic attraction was drawing him _away_ from the prison, not into it.

Mary gasped, and Snape opened his eyes once more. The warmth was abruptly replaced by chilling cold, emitted by the shapeless darkness beneath, at the foot of the fortress, gliding slowly towards them. The guards of Azkaban had discovered the intrusion.


	26. On the Run

Disclaimer: The HP world is owned by J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 26**

_On the Run_

"Expecto Patronum!" shouted Mary, who was already gripping her wand.

The silver songbird appeared, and the horses instinctively shot upwards, as Snape was turning back towards the Dementors and reaching into his pocket at the same time. But he could not grab his wand. He unexpectedly jolted ahead as though someone had pulled him suddenly with great force. The thread-thin chain around his neck had tautened. It was cutting into his neck, and the pendant on it felt like a very heavy weight.

With one hand, he was clutching the bridle to stop the upward flight of Pollux, while his other hand flew to his aching neck at once. The chain did not slacken. And then ... then he noticed. Mary had fallen off Castor and was now floating below the horses seemingly suspended in mid-air by an invisible string. Snape did not doubt for a second that it was the thin, tight chain that had somehow stopped her fall.

It might break any instant ... and so might the connection. He realized with alarm that he knew nothing about the finer aspects of controlling a horse. Both animals were frightened, desperately wanting to flee from the Dementors, who had been disturbed by Mary's songbird but could not be permanently intimidated by a single Patronus on their own territory. The chain cut into his skin even deeper, but it did not break.

"Go to her," he begged to Pollux. "You belong to her. She needs help."

It was not clear whether the horse understood the words or the intent or whether it was Snape's words or just a conditioned reflex that the animal obeyed, but Pollux started at last to descend. The chain, however, remained tight, and Snape was not getting any nearer to the floating figure. By contrast, the Dementors, who were gathering again below, kept getting closer to all of them. The sound of the waves was becoming louder, and somewhere above Snape, there was a flash of light immediately followed by a clap of thunder and pouring rain.

_They all were going to fall_ ... The calm self-confidence emanating from the Dementors watching his effort was much worse than the thunderstorm. _It was no use trying... He could not reach her, not until they both landed on the island, under the Dementors' blind stare_... And yet, the chain was painfully tight, mysteriously keeping up the invisible connection between them, and it did not let him give up. Snape seized the chain and began pulling it. It was as difficult as he had expected, a hot, heavy object between his ice-cold fingers, and he could hardly see Mary in the thick rain, but he kept pulling all the same, although he hardly knew why.

Pollux could not remain still - the horse apparently needed all his self-discipline to merely stay on the spot, and he flounced and snorted again and again. _Surely they were going to fall_. But as he peered through the rain, Snape saw that Mary was significantly nearer already. If Pollux obeyed him now, he could soon reach her.

He did not need to give any commands. Pollux flew towards Mary, as Snape pulled the chain again. The Dementors' eager anticipation was palpable. Snape leaned forward as much as he could, he stretched out his arms ... and he caught hold of her hand. He had almost tumbled out of the saddle, but finally Mary was safely on the horse's back. She was unconscious and she must have dropped her wand.

"Up!" Snape hissed the usual broomstick command, but Pollux probably understood that, too, since he soared towards the stormy skies without delay.

The horse was hurtling through the air with such speed that Snape needed all his strength to hold on to the animal. But he also had to hold Mary, who still did not stir. The Dementors were pursuing them, gliding slightly above the raging waves, obviously waiting for them to fall. The rain was pelting down, and the thunder and the lightning never seemed to cease.

Both his hands being occupied, Snape could not reach for his wand. Nor did he have any idea of where Pollux was taking them, but he did not mind. He was busy fighting off the Dementor-induced images of horror and hopelessness, whose only purpose, he knew, was to rob him of the will to flee. Now and then, he caught a glimpse of Castor, who, miraculously, stayed close to his twin through the storm and the chase, although there was no one to give either of them any more commands.

Mary opened her eyes at last, and stared blankly into the damp and cold semi-darkness in front of her. Then her body tensed.

"Where are we?" she muttered when she gathered enough strength to speak.

Snape's glance swept their surroundings. The storm was above their heads, the Dementors below, the rain and the wind all around. He knew that Mary was suffering from Dementor-sickness, and he had no chocolate to give her. What could he say that was true and yet soothing? He drew the girl closer to himself.

"You are with me," he said quietly. "And I am with you."

He could feel her relax and let out a sigh of relief. At once it seemed that the thunder was not quite as loud as it had been and the rain was not quite as heavy as before. Although at the moment he could not check it, he thought it _quite_ reasonable to hope that the horses had shaken off the Dementors finally. Ahead of them, Snape could see Castor flying, a rather peculiar sight. There was some sort of stick attached to the horse's head, as though a twig had been caught in the bridle, which made Castor look like a unicorn. At the top of the stick, there was a strange light, like a blue flame, glowing through the curtain of the rain.

"Severus," asked Mary, "where are we going?"

He motioned towards Castor, and she slowly turned her head.

"We are following a light," he said. "Look."

Mary gazed at the flame and recognized her wand sticking out of the tack. It was indeed very easy to get the impression that Pollux was simply following the blue light that Castor was carrying for them.

"Good," she sighed again, nestling in the arms that held her firmly, and feeling quite, quite safe.

* * *

When the storm started, another traveller in the area of Azkaban found herself in a precarious position. The thunder to her was only a distant roar, but the gale gave her enough trouble, violently shaking her broomstick, which had been dishearteningly slow so far, and was currently bucking hopelessly. It was as though the wooden object rejected the idea of going into the huge black cloud, where its rider was trying to direct it.

The rough wind blew her red hair into her bright green eyes, and she knit her brow in concentration; then all of a sudden she screamed out aloud.

"Pardon me," said a male voice directly behind her. "I did not mean to frighten you, I just had to grab something, because I almost -"

"How dare you!" shrieked the woman after a second of flabbergasted silence. "How dare you tail me like this! And why aren't you in St. Mungo's anyway?"

James Potter took off the Invisibility Cloak with some difficulty.

"Give me a minute," he replied wearily. "I'm still awfully dizzy."

Despite herself, Lily threw a quick, worried glance at him. James pulled the Cloak in front of his face to hide a smirk.

"Are you sure you want to ride straight into that thunderstorm?" he asked when the broomstick was tossed up and then down again by another gust of wind.

"I don't see what else I could do," she said nervously. "The Terminal is far away, and there are no places nearby where I could land."

James had to admit that Lily had a point. After the attack of dizziness, the main symptom of the illness left by the Cruciatus Curse, his hands were a little shaky, and he was not up to what he would have most liked to do - to take over the control of the broomstick and to guide the vehicle to safety with his greater experience. Therefore he only took his wand (it required some effort), and began casting a series of steadying, protective and wind-and-rain-repelling spells, while Lily was steering the broomstick out of the main path of the storm, hoping she would not deviate too far from the right direction.

Later, James performed a Glass Dome Charm. Sheltering under this spell, it was as though they were watching the rain and the lightning through a window or a glass roof. The flight was halted though: the Glass Dome Charm did not move with them. Nor did it last longer than a few minutes, but James was ready to repeat the spell as many times as necessary until the worst of the storm was over.

Lily dried her robes, and decided to use the inevitable stopover to start a similarly inevitable conversation.

"So what exactly do you mean by following me here?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Isn't it lucky that I have come?" James returned the question. "Without me, you would be weathering this nasty storm alone."

To be fair, Lily had to admit that having James on the same broomstick while this very bad weather lasted was much, much better than being alone. What was more, she felt somewhat puzzled that James contented himself with simply helping her stay in control of the broomstick instead of wanting to take control himself. In a way, this was more surprising than her husband's unexpected appearance in the middle of the flight. However, Lily was not _absolutely_ certain that she wanted to be _really_ fair at the moment.

"You owe me an explanation," she answered curtly.

"Well, I sneaked out of St. Mungo's under the Invisibility Cloak -"

"I suppose Sirius was in on the joke?"

"Yes, he brought me the Cloak, and he told me that you had to go to The Terminal before going to Azkaban. I was waiting outside the house for you and Disapparated as soon as you did."

"It was also Sirius who insisted that I should use this very long broomstick - and I was wondering why it was so slow!"

"Anyway," James continued, "I waited for you again outside the main building of The Terminal, and when you came out, I mounted the broomstick just as you did. Of course, I knew that it was only a matter of time and you would discover me."

"And what did you hope to achieve?"

"I have told you before. I am not letting you go to Azkaban alone! This is not an average storm. The place is full of Dementors."

"And I have told you before that since I am the only one who has received permission to visit Azkaban, I will go there alone, and no one is going to stop me."

"The only way I can turn back now is with you," James said almost triumphantly.

"Is that your purpose then?" Lily snapped. "To force me to turn back because of you? You have never been alone in your life - you cannot imagine what it is like to be locked up in Azkaban with no one to talk to even! Yes, the place is full of Dementors, and that is why I _must_ visit Severus. What is so difficult to understand about that?"

"Dumbledore visited him, too," James pointed out.

"Once! Dumbledore has too many things on his hands - and Severus has no other friends."

"I never told you not to visit him. I merely wonder why you insist on seeing him _alone_."

"How many times must I repeat it? It took me weeks to obtain the permission to enter Azkaban, and it is for one person only!"

"A very convenient circumstance," growled James.

"So it is not so much the Dementors that you are worried about but the fact that I might spend a few minutes alone with Severus in a _prison cell_? James Potter, you are being ridiculous!"

"Why are you upset then? You can visit him - and I'm coming with you even though I have no permission."

"You can't fool the Dementors with your Invisibility Cloak," Lily said sharply. "Don't you realize how dangerous this little game of yours can become?"

"The Cloak is not my only disguise," James answered. "I'm an Animagus, and the Dementors are not interested in animals."

Lily was silent for a while.

"Let's hope there will be no aurors on the island," she replied finally. "Then you can change into a stag and wait until I come out of the prison."

"No. I'm going with you. They will not notice."

"It is dangerous."

"Not more than your plan."

"And what if, James, just what if, _Severus_ does not want to see you, perhaps? Has this idea occurred to you?"

"I don't know what makes you imagine such things," James said with mock surprise.

But this time Lily did not appreciate his sense of humour.

"I somehow don't think you are the ideal person to save him from Dementor-sickness."

"Oh, but didn't you want me to become his friend? Didn't you tell me so just before his arrest? What better occasion to show my friendship for him?"

"You are not showing your friendship, you are showing your jealousy, James."

"Maybe he'll see it differently. He is in grave need of visitors, isn't he?"

"Severus is in need of friends," said Lily. "If you really thought of _him_, you could easily understand what I mean... but you are thinking of yourself only."

"No, I'm thinking of _you_ all the time. Day and night. Do you ever feel it?"

He leaned close to her, parted her hair with one hand and planted a kiss on her neck. Lily felt a slight shudder running down her spine, but otherwise she remained unresponsive.

"So what is it that I don't understand?" James asked with badly disguised disappointment. "Explain."

"I asked Dumbledore a lot of questions about Azkaban ..." Lily said slowly. "I hardly dare to imagine what state I might find Severus in. He may need the help of a friend... But he will not need an indifferent or hostile spectator to watch his misery."

"If I remain a stag, or put on the Cloak again, Snape may never notice -"

"No!" Lily protested. "Do you think I would ever -"

"Of course, you would never. Forget it. He knows my Animagus form anyway. Still ... if he is ill, you alone may not be able to do much for him. If you are so concerned, let me help you."

"I don't know," said Lily with a shade of uncertainty in her voice. "But perhaps we could go on now."

* * *

The storm and the rain petered out slowly. When the late afternoon sun shone through a cleft in the clouds, Snape glimpsed something green breaking the greyish blue monotony of the sea below, as the horses began descending. They were once again approaching the Order's island. He had not given the horses any directions, but the island was as good a hiding place as any other. Castor and Pollux were getting tired, Mary was still weak and exhausted, and Snape himself was sure that even a simple Disapparition would be beyond his power at the moment.

They murmured their names, and the wards let them enter as before. Pollux flew around the island several times, allowing Snape to search for signs of human life and magical beings in the forest, before he took them to the Silvana.

"We can spend the night here," Mary said, while Snape was casting the usual protective spells. "In the morning, I will go and fetch Dumbledore. I'll send him a message if necessary, telling him that he must come back immediately."

Snape felt tempted to point out that Dumbledore might be pursuing goals too important to give them up for the sake of a cryptic message, but he thought better of it. Mary was at least hopeful. Dumbledore would probably be officially informed of the breakout, and maybe someone somewhere might even suspect that Snape would try to contact his mentor somehow... But there was no need to share these thoughts with Mary so soon.

"All right," he said therefore, but the end of the answer became a painful hiss, leaving his lips before he could stop himself.

Mary wheeled round.

"What is it?"

Snape was clutching his arm, where the open wound was bleeding heavily, his face etched with anger and revulsion. Gingerly, Mary reached for him.

"Don't touch me," he groaned, through gritted teeth, stepping backwards.

Mary's eyes opened wide, but she did not recoil.

"You are bleeding!"

"Don't -"

He turned away with an uncontrollable reflex, when all of a sudden the anger was over, replaced by a calming, trustful sensation.

"You can't stop the bleeding," he said, as his features gradually smoothed. "But it is getting better now."

He did not object when Mary led him into a cabin, made him sit down and brought a wet handkerchief to clean the area of the injury. The bleeding ceased in the meantime, and only minutes later, the wound closed up completely. The pain had stopped, too, and the only lasting effect of the incident was the confusion Snape was feeling, not so much because of the blood, but because of the various emotions that had swept through him and had made him act in a way that Mary could not understand. Even he found it difficult to explain the details.

"Severus."

He shook his head.

"I can't say anything. Not yet. I need time to think."

Mary went to her bag, and returned with her palm outstretched.

"Take this."

She was handing him a chocolate bar, the best medicine against Dementor-sickness. Snape stared at her for a moment; then he reached for the chocolate and broke it into two equal halves.

"You need it more than I do," he said.

Mary smiled a little, and took her share of chocolate from him.

"I have just discovered the shower," she announced, when they had finished off the anti-Dementor medication. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

She left, and Snape buried his face into his hands, trying to think.

* * *

It seemed to Lily that she had been walking and walking down the long, winding corridors for ages, following the Dementor. She had not spent much time trying to imagine her first meeting with an Azkaban guard. She had been aware that it was going to be a horrible experience, but she was certain that she would be able to bear it for her best friend's sake, and she had not given much more thought to it. Though she had eaten a large piece of chocolate before landing, she was still feeling awfully cold and unhappy and nearly convinced that she would never be happy again.

In this situation, the presence of the stag at her heels was something to cling to. In truth, the animal appeared to be as downhearted as she was, and had sadly lost his once majestic beauty; but neither this fact, nor the Dementor's influence could rob Lily of the conviction that the stag would come to her rescue the instant she needed it.

At last the Dementor stopped, turned around, and with its rotting hand, pointed at a door a little further down the corridor, before hurrying away. Lily did not wonder why it was not leading her directly to her destination. She quickly munched another piece of chocolate, giving some to the stag as well; then she took the parchment that contained her permission to visit Severus Snape, and pressed the key-shaped stamp on it against the door indicated by the Dementor.

"Lumos," she said as she entered, then gaped at the room in front of her, bewildered.

First of all, the cell did not look like the prison cell that Dumbledore had described. Though it was furnished simply and strictly functionally, the furniture was considerably better than the single bed that Dumbledore had spoken of. There were also goblets and plates, even candles, a shelf with _books_, as well as a small mirror on the wall. But this would not have seemed so strange to her after all if she had found Severus among all these objects. Severus, however, was missing. She called out his name repeatedly, but nothing happened, and Lily knew without doubt that Severus would answer her call if he could.

James bent down and picked up something from the floor. It was a clock, emitting a faint, blue light, but as soon as he tried to examine it more closely, the light went out. He stared at the clock, puzzled. Lily was walking around slowly, studying the details of the cell one by one.

"Well, he is not here," said James. "Perhaps they have moved him into a different cell."

"Don't you think the aurors in The Terminal should know which prisoner is where?" Lily asked.

James shrugged.

"Who knows what these creatures are up to? My impression is that they can do as they please provided they keep the prisoners inside. The Terminal is too far away for strict supervision."

"Don't say that," Lily whispered with increased horror.

Her husband's face assumed an "I-told-you-so" expression, but Lily was too worried to take note.

"What shall we do now? I'll try and ask the Dementors."

"No," said James darkly. "They know perfectly well which prisoner you have come to visit. If they have led you to an empty cell, it must have been intentional."

Lily shuddered, and began reading the permission form. According to that, they were in the Azkaban cell currently inhabited by Severus Snape. Lily knew that the door of that cell was the only door that the stamp on the parchment could open. There was no way for her to find Severus without the help of a Dementor or a Ministry employee, and all the Ministry employees were far away.

"Perhaps he is away only temporarily," she said. "Maybe he is ... oh, I don't know."

"This place is too comfortable for a regular cell," James observed. "I am not sure if it is for a prisoner at all."

"Look at this," said Lily, opening a book that she had found on the shelf. "Someone has written into it ... These are notes showing that the reader disagreed with the author on various points, or that the reader had thoughts to add to those of the author. This is _his_ handwriting, James, I recognize it! It is _his_ habit to make such notes. This must be _his_ cell."

"What about this?" said James, lifting a piece of rough, torn textile. "Do you think it is ... blood?"

He produced a penknife, and began unpicking the threads of the material where he saw the small, blood-red stain in the middle.

"It _is_ blood," he said pensively. "Was Snape attacked? The Dementors don't draw blood as far as I know ... Maybe he fought a cellmate - or perhaps he committed -"

"No..." Lily breathed. "It can't be..."

Despite the wandlight, the cell darkened abruptly.

"Expecto Patronum!" they shouted at the same time.

The doe Patronus and the stag Patronus burst out of their wands, bringing back the light. They both gaped at the piece of textile, lost for words: The stain had grown bigger, and the blood seemed fresh.

"Stop that!" Lily cried, snatching the cloth from her husband. "We don't even know what we are handling... Do you really think this is _his_ blood?"

She was overpowered by feelings of sorrow and compassion as she touched the textile. Where was Severus now? She smoothed the cloth very carefully, as though her treatment of it could influence Severus Snape's life somewhere, perhaps quite far away. She bent closer. The blood-red stain was shrinking rapidly until it vanished completely.

"Magic," she murmured, deep in thought.

She began tracing her wand along the walls slowly and attentively. James waited silently for a while, but finally his patience was wearing thin.

"I don't see what more we could do here," he said nervously. "We must go back to The Terminal, and report everything to the aurors."

It took some time before Lily responded.

"Perhaps we should," she began dreamily, "but I'm not convinced of it at all ..."

"Why not?"

"I can sense magic," she continued, standing by the window, feeling the atmosphere not only with her wand, but with her fingers, with her nose and with the gaze of her brilliant eyes. "I think Severus left ... this way." She indicated the window. "It is strange... but I can detect magic and ... and happiness. Strong, happy magic. Whatever was happening when he left, I think he enjoyed it..."

James frowned. Snape and enjoyment? Happy magic in a prison cell of all places? She was clearly wrong about this one.

The dreamy expression left Lily's face and her countenance turned stern.

"James," she said solemnly, "the Dementors did not deceive me on purpose. I don't know why or how ... but I am almost certain that Severus has broken out of Azkaban."

* * *

When Mary re-emerged, Snape gazed at her for a while. She was clad in white (she had had the foresight to bring spare clothes) and she was almost shining in the dim light of the cabin. Just watching her would have been quite pleasant if the moment had not been marred by the impending discussion between them, which Snape was still unprepared to start.

"Try to get some sleep," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He rose, urgently wishing to put his head under cold water. He wanted to be woken up - no matter how drastically - from this nightmare at last. How much worse could things get?

This question was answered all too soon. Exhausted though, he thought it prudent to check the ship more thoroughly before going to bed. He discovered the trouble as he approached the cabins where he had locked up Avery and Mulciber. The doors were open wide, and there were no traces of the two Death Eaters anywhere.

"Zippy," he moaned, unable to shout any more.

He repeated the call, but to no avail. Zippy's failure to obey him could mean only two things: Either the elf was dead or Avery had reclaimed his ownership somehow. Snape searched the ship; then he began looking for magical traces betraying what had happened. Unfortunately, the Silvana was so full of memories of past magic that it was very difficult to detect anything definitive, except the trace of something unusually strong and powerful and fairly recent. He concluded that the powerful magic must have defied the wards, his own spells as well as the Order's protection around the island, and it must have freed the Death Eaters hours before.

He went back to the cabin, where Mary was already asleep in one of the sleeping bags that Zippy had brought to the ship. She was apparently still fighting some deadly foe invading her much needed rest.

"Severus," she muttered unexpectedly, "don't leave me alone ... Please."

Snape hesitated. He was not up to another fight yet; the Death Eaters and Zippy were beyond his reach anyway. He had to regain some strength and to make sure that Mary was safe. He cast an alarm spell - if anyone broke the wards again, they would be warned at least.

"I'll stay here with you," he said to her, choosing another sleeping bag and wondering how long he would be able to keep this promise.


	27. Wonderful and Terrible

Disclaimer: The characters are owned by J.K. Rowling. I enjoy borrowing them and playing with them.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 27**

_Wonderful and Terrible_

He woke up with a feeling that something was amiss, when the first light of dawn started to filter into the cabin. Of course. _His whole life was amiss_, he thought, as he recalled the events of the previous day. That was really no reason to wake up so early for. He turned around, and his glance fell on Mary's empty sleeping bag. He sat up. Where had she gone?

Soon no bad news could surprise him anymore. He got up and hurried out of the cabin, but he did not have to go far. She was sitting by the same table where they had eaten lunch the day before, peering into the dark of the forest.

"I could not sleep," she said quietly when Snape stopped in his tracks, not sure if he was disturbing her. "I think I must leave soon."

So she was going to leave finally. _Wise decision_, he thought, oddly disappointed. She would be safer away from him.

"Did you know?" she asked, gesturing towards the open doors of the Death Eaters' cabins.

Snape nodded.

"How did they escape?"

"I have no idea," he answered. "But they probably managed to break all the wards; otherwise they would have stayed here. This is the only comfortable place on the whole island. Zippy has vanished, too. Avery must have known a trick that I have never heard about."

This was the most painful part of the revelation. Mary could not speak for several minutes.

"What do you think is the earliest time when I can enter Hogwarts Castle?" she broke the silence at last.

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Hogwarts," she replied, eyebrows raised. "I must bring Dumbledore to you as quickly as possible."

"It is practically night yet," Snape said, shocked by the discovery that he had misinterpreted her intentions.

He sat down opposite her, a momentary bitter smile in the corner of his lips.

"Dumbledore will be delighted. Provided you find him at all."

"I'll find him. I'll beg for his help on my knees if need be," she said without hesitation. "He must know that you don't deserve punishment."

"The decision is not his."

"At least he is on your side and he knows ... that you are innocent."

"Not quite," he grunted, with a sharp glance at her. "I was a Death Eater, and that is one of the reasons why I was arrested. This is still true," he added.

"What you have done since you left the Death Eaters -"

"I know," he interrupted impatiently. "There are things in my favour; but I'm trying to think the way the Wizengamot would. I failed to show up at my hearing in the first place. It was not intentional, but now I have broken out of Azkaban. They are bound to see a tendency there. If they believe me to be a murderer, the logical conclusion will be that I was trying to avoid punishment repeatedly. In their eyes, it will also discredit my allegiance to our side."

"Severus -"

"Without Mulciber, not even Dumbledore can prove much."

"Then what is your plan now?"

He swallowed hard.

"The point is," he explained, "that my absence is no more a secret to the Ministry. Both the magic that kept the Dementors away from that cell and the magic that made them believe that I was still behind that door have by now expired."

"Does that have anything to do with that wound?"

"Everything," said Snape. "Before coming away from Azkaban, I left behind a sample of my blood, charmed to imitate my thoughts and emotions for the Dementors to feel. As long as the magic was in operation, that wound remained open. Actually, it lasted longer than I had hoped."

"And the bleeding?"

"I don't know exactly what caused it; but... someone was in that cell yesterday. Not a Dementor. You see, the magic I used to deceive the Dementors had originally been invented for a different purpose... to hurt people. The object on which the enchanted blood is left can be manipulated to cause harm, pain ... suffering."

"But then you made yourself very vulnerable with that magic," said Mary, horrified.

"I bought time for us. Without that, the Dementors would have alerted the aurors within minutes of my departure."

"Do Death Eaters use this magic to torture people?" she asked in a faint voice.

"Rarely," Snape answered. "It is not practical at all. If you are able to take someone's blood, you can probably find easier ways to hurt them."

"Now that the wound has closed -"

"Naturally, _that_ danger is over," said Snape. "But it means I am being hunted by Dementors and aurors at this very moment. Since I am accused of being a Death Eater, aurors have the right to use Unforgivable Curses on me - any of the three. As for Dementors ... if _they_ catch me, they won't feel obliged to exercise particular restraint in my case. What do you think are my chances of getting a fair trial?"

She was silent.

"You can still get out of it," he continued. "The aurors will probably think that I escaped using some obscure Dark Magic. If I am captured and I have to name an accomplice, I can always name Mulciber. It will not even make much difference to him. You had better go back to your normal life before it is too late."

Mary rose from her seat. Snape saw her shiver as though she was cold. She grabbed the balustrade.

"Everything is my fault," she began. Her voice was quiet but steady. "I ... _wanted_ to help you very much, but you are in more trouble now than before, because of the mistake I made. Perhaps you want no more of my help; but I can do better than that ... I promise. I will try harder. I can't leave you now -"

"What mistake?" Snape burst out suddenly. So far he had been convinced that all mistakes had been his.

He rose, too.

"You probably wondered why the magic of the pendant failed," Mary said, averting her eyes from him. "Well ... it was working all the time, but I was trying to use it in the wrong way. You see, it had enabled me to visit you and to bring you out of that horrible place, but ... _imprisoning_ you ... would have been different. I should have realized it in advance. The plan had this flaw from the start. I wish I had seen it, but I did not."

She stole a quick glance at Snape and blushed.

"I forced myself to want to go back to Azkaban," he said with an inexplicable desire to confess his weakness to her, "but I could not help ... longing to be ... somewhere else. Perhaps your mistake was expecting too much from me."

She shook her head, and took a step towards him, this time meeting his gaze.

"Don't blame yourself. I alone knew what the magic was about," she said earnestly, "or at least I believed I knew it. Can you forgive me? Can you trust me enough to give me another chance to help you?"

Her manner was artless, yet she had a secret; and Snape wished he knew what it was. _Forgive and trust_? If he was a wizard as wise as Dumbledore, as handsome as Sirius Black and as self-assured as James Potter, he could perhaps guess why she was still with him and how she had ended up risking so much for him. And if he was all of these and on top of that a free man, free to live, free to choose, free to do as he wished, he might even attempt now to explain how far he was from being angry with her. Since, however, he was only Severus Snape, former Death Eater and disgraced member of the Order of the Phoenix, currently on the run from aurors and Dementors, his answer was only this:

"There is nothing to forgive."

She was grateful even for that, and she risked a tiny smile.

"What shall we do now?"

Snape wondered how he was going to make any plans. He needed a clear head, but he was still too confused and still too tired. He had better not stay in one place for long, but the anti-Dementor wards he had put up in the evening were still working, while out there he could easily run into some Dementor patrols. He also knew that he could not share all his concerns with Mary. She was ready to help him; but he could not let her make any more sacrifices. Dumbledore had enough power to save her yet, and until then, Snape had to protect her. Her safety would be a priority in the next plan. Eventually they would have to separate - but he could not send her thoughtlessly into the arms of a Dementor: For the time being, she was safer on the island.

"Get some more rest," he replied practically. "We can't contact Dumbledore until the morning, and we must make a careful plan. Hogwarts, as the place where I last lived, may be watched now. There is no need for you to go there - the Dementors could recognize you, and Dumbledore may still be away."

He led her back to the cabin, but he stopped at the door. Now that the darkness of the night with its many shadows was over, there seemed to be no justification for sharing a cabin when there were so many cabins on the Silvana. He suddenly noticed that he was still wearing Mary's chain with the pendant on it. He took it off, and placed it around her neck.

"It was quite useful, in fact," he said. "It saved you when you fell off the horse. Its magic was strong enough to hold you until I reached you."

"Really?" she whispered; her face a picture of amazement. "_This_ magic?"

"I believe so."

She grabbed the pendant as Snape turned to leave.

"I'll be next door," he said.

"Severus -"

"Yes?"

"Did ... did you _like_ this magic?"

The question was unexpected, and Snape gaped at Mary somewhat puzzled.

"It hurt when you fell, but it helped me save you, so its ultimate effect was good. At other times, it caused ... an agreeable sensation," he answered cautiously. "Quite agreeable, yes. Why?"

"I thought -" She broke off, obviously embarrassed.

"What did you think?"

"You look so Dementor-ridden... Perhaps it could help again ... I mean if you want to ... to feel that magic once more."

Snape could vividly remember how warm, safe and how _alive_ he had felt leaving Azkaban. The magic had been taking him where he longed to go. Did he want to forget the Dementors and all this grim reality of being hunted, even though the sensible thing would be to flee as fast as he could? Did he want to experience that wonderful sensation again? If he did, was he going to admit it?

His hand was on the door handle.

"Well, at the moment -"

He caught her glance and forgot what he had been going to say.

"I would like it," he said with complete honesty.

With a pang of self-consciousness, he realized that he had just revealed something that he himself had not known so far, something that would best have remained hidden.

"Good," she sighed.

The door of the cabin closed with a click as Snape let go of the handle. He could already feel a wonderful and terrible force drawing him unmistakably towards her...

* * *

It felt like finding a true home, a place where he was welcome, where he safely and firmly belonged. Slowly, intensely, as though he was about to taste a rare elixir, he breathed in her scent. He opened his eyes, and he saw Life smiling at him, Life, which was deep like the ocean and warm like sunshine, Life as he had never known it before, a Life worth living and guarding. He could smell the scent of Life, and he had the taste of Life in his mouth. He could see her, hear her, and feel her with his skin. She was real. He was allowed to touch her as though she belonged to him.

"So strange," he mused, stroking her hair.

"What is strange?" she asked.

"You are not running away from me..."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why _not_?"

"I feel fine with you."

Her voice was reassuring, like a caress, but he turned serious nevertheless.

"I am not taking ... advantage of you, am I? Just say the word and I will go away."

Tenderly, she touched his forehead and began tracing her fingers on his eyebrows, massaging his temples with light, delicate movements, easing the stress and banishing tormenting thoughts. Slowly, her meticulous fingers reached the bitter lines of his face and finally the thin, pallid lips. There his hand caught hers, and pressed her palm to those lips in a long, passionate kiss.

"Do you _want_ to go away?" she asked softly.

"No," he confessed, "not at all. But nor do I want anything that you would regret later. Don't forget what I am."

"I forget nothing," she answered, enveloping him in her arms, as though he belonged to her.

* * *

It was morning by any standards, and not exactly early, when he woke up again. Mary was sleeping, a peaceful, serene expression on her face. Snape spent several seconds gazing at her, trying to carve every detail of this lovely sight into his memory.

He tore himself away from this pleasure at last, feeling angry with his own stupidity. It was time he stopped pretending that he was on holiday with her... The certainty that she was bound to regret her choice stabbed his heart like a knife. Why hadn't she fled from him before it was too late? Why had he not chased her away, offending her if necessary; why had he made her vulnerable to the greater wrong? He saw now the events of the past few days in a brand new light with horrible clarity.

While she had been and still was thinking of _him_ only, he had allowed her to risk everything she had, to risk _her life_ in fact, trying to save his. The plan had failed; and now Mary would be the accomplice of an escaped prisoner, of a supposed murderer, and she, too, would end up in Azkaban if she was found with him. Even if he managed to prove that he had not murdered, the aurors would expect him to reveal the details of the breakout - without cooperation, he could not count on their benevolence, as various Ministry people had pointed out to him.

Regardless of whether they were captured or remained on the run together, his short-sightedness and his selfishness would cost her dear. He should have listened to the warning words of his Patronus: _This is not the time for action_ ... Had she foreseen what he would try and how he would fail?

But the fight was not over yet. In one respect at least, he could still put matters right. Mary had to be saved from the Dementors ... and from him. Snape slipped out of the cabin noiselessly. _He_ would contact Dumbledore before her. _He_ would drop on his knees in front of the professor, confess what he had done and beg him to save her. If the aurors suspected that he would seek out Dumbledore, he could easily be caught and taken back to Azkaban, but he only needed time enough to tell Dumbledore what he wanted from him.

Therefore he had to see Dumbledore alone. He would send Dumbledore a message asking him to meet him secretly. It could not be a Patronus message - if Dumbledore was not alone when the Patronus arrived, the Patronus would identify him as the sender of the message. Instead, he could send Dumbledore a letter if he found an owl in the forest that was willing to deliver it.

He had to design the letter cleverly, so that only Dumbledore could know who had written it, in case the owl was intercepted. He would not use his normal handwriting to start with. He would write in runes. Unlike in Snape's schooldays, when only freaks - ones like him - had studied _Ancient Runes_, the subject had recently become quite fashionable at Hogwarts, popularized by a widely-read adventure novel. Rune writing was also fairly uniform - everyone who learned runes, learned to write them in the required way, and no one used them enough to develop truly individual rune writing styles.

Of course, the wording of the letter would be even more important... He had to see to it that neither his, nor Mary's identity could be discovered from the message. With a piece of parchment and a quill, he sat down by the small dining table, spent a few moments thinking and then began to write:

HEADMASTER,

THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE PRANK IS MINE ALONE. I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO BE PUNISHED FOR IT. IF YOU COULD GRANT ME A PROPER APPOINTMENT, I WOULD TELL YOU EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. IF IT IS IMPOSSIBLE, MY CLASSMATE WILL TRY TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING. MY ONLY REQUEST IS THAT YOU LET EVERYONE KNOW THAT SHE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PRANK, EVEN THOUGH SHE MAY BE TOO CONFUSED TO SAY IT HERSELF. I MAY FACE DETENTION OR EXPULSION PERHAPS, BUT SHE MUST REMAIN ABOVE SUSPICION SO THAT NO ONE IN THE SCHOOL COULD EVER BLAME HER. PLEASE, DO THIS FOR ME - IT MAY BE MY LAST REQUEST BEFORE THE END OF THE TERM.

He did not sign the letter. He still had the Blue Stone in his pocket, and he decided to attach it to the parchment instead of a signature. Very few people knew about the Blue Stone - the aurors certainly did not - but Dumbledore would recognize it.

He rolled up the parchment, and he left the Silvana in search of an owl. This task would probably have been easier at night. But it was not long before he glimpsed a large owl perched on a tree branch, asleep, hardly noticeable because of its camouflage feathers. Would this bird be the one he was looking for?

It did seem persuadable. He was just about to show the owl the letter to see how it would react when he heard a noise behind his back. He barely had time to whip out his wand and point it in the direction of the noise, when the branches of a pine tree opposite him were swept aside, and out stepped a wizard in auror robes... Alastor Moody.

"Put it away, son," said the raspy voice calmly. "Or better even, give it to me."

Snape was gripping his wand, unable to utter a word. If Moody had shown the slightest intention of attacking, Snape would have fired a curse at him; but it was difficult to curse the old man with the wooden leg and the one eye, when he was not even lifting his wand, only staring at Snape steadily, as a snake charmer or maybe a lion tamer could stare at a wild animal, confidently expecting Snape to hand over his weapon for the asking.

Several minutes must have gone by while they were standing thus facing each other, the auror determined, and Snape desperate, when they both heard someone approach again. Moody's gaze darkened.

"Who is there?" he growled, and this time he was indeed raising his wand.

Snape, however, threw his own wand towards the auror, who caught it easily.

"Let's go," Snape said. "Now."

The auror watched him with his eye narrowed by suspicion.

"Did you hear me?" Snape hissed. "I'm going with you... That is what you want, isn't it?"

But the auror did not budge. They heard Mary's voice from a short distance:

"Severus?"

Snape could tell that Moody was surprised; and yet he kept waiting.

"Leave her out if it," said Snape, not noticing that his formerly fierce tone turned into pleading. "You have captured me ... let it be enough."

He stuck his wrists out to be handcuffed. _It was all the same to him now, but_ _Mary could not suffer for_ - He was almost frightened by the word that came into his mind next, and he was shaking his head without knowing it. _Mary could not suffer for helping him_, he finished the thought sternly.

Moody did not handcuff Snape, he simply gestured for him to go ahead; and they started to walk across the forest. They were, however, late. Mary must have heard them, and she soon caught up with them.

Moody stopped and turned around. Defeated, Snape followed suit.

"No..." she moaned, assessing the situation in an instant.

She grabbed Moody's arm and shook it.

"Where are you going with him?"

"I am taking him to the place where he is supposed to be," said the auror slowly. "To Azkaban."

"Not to the Dementors!" she screamed wildly. "He did not do anything, he is innocent! Dumbledore will tell you! You can't give him to the Dementors! Do you understand, you can't..."

She let go of Moody, and drew her wand, but her hand was trembling. Snape was pondering their chances of escaping. His wand was in one of the inner pockets of Moody's robes.

"His innocence must be proved in front of the Wizengamot," growled Moody, "which is only possible if he does not miss his trial this time."

Mary gasped, and Snape gaped at Moody.

"T-trial?" she spluttered.

"Today," came the terse reply. "We had better be on time."

"You mentioned ... _Azkaban_," Mary whispered, her lips pale.

"Inmates must check out of the prison before showing up in the Ministry," the auror explained. "He can avoid a whole lot of questions by sticking to this rule."

"But ... Dumbledore ..." she said tentatively.

"Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts yesterday," Moody rasped. "He is rather busy, but he will attend the trial."

Mary looked at Snape.

"I'll talk to him ... Trust me. I'll tell him everything..."

"I'm sure it will be a fascinating story," said the auror dryly. "But we are in a hurry now. By the way ..."

His one eye scrutinized Snape for a while.

"Where did you leave your prison robes?"

Snape motioned towards the ship.

The auror did not like the idea of more walk, so Mary went back to the Silvana to fetch the large rope that used to be the prison robes. It had been very useful in the cave, and Snape had almost forgotten what it had been transfigured from. When the two men were left alone, Snape took the chance to plead with Moody once more.

"Don't mention her in the Ministry," he said. "She does not deserve the Dementors. It is my fault that she is here and I want to take the blame alone. She is far too good for Azkaban."

The auror only snorted in response, as though he did not believe that anyone was too good for Azkaban. Snape knew that Mary's fate was in the old man's hands, and he was anxious to secure his benevolence for her.

"I don't care about anything else, just keep _her_ safe... She would be destroyed by the Dementors; she would die there! Don't let it happen ...please... "

"Besides this wand - have you got any magical devices or other prohibited items on you?" Moody asked abruptly.

Snape took the rolled-up parchment, the quill and Blue Stone out of his pocket, and gave them to the auror, who lifted the Stone, and peered through it. To Snape's surprise, he whistled suddenly.

"Very useful thing," he observed.

"It has lost its magic," Snape answered, raising his eyebrows.

"If this is not magical, I don't know what is," Moody said, deeply interested. This hard man had a soft spot for gadgets of detection.

Out of the blue, the owl appeared that Snape had approached earlier. It was fully awake already, and it seemed to be stretching out a leg towards the parchment in Moody's hand.

"I wanted to send the Stone to Dumbledore," Snape muttered, "with a message."

The auror examined the bird attentively through the Stone.

"Do it quickly then," he growled finally, putting the quill into his travelling cloak.

Soon the owl flew away with the message, and Mary returned with the rope.

"You will have time to change later," said Moody. "Let's go."

Mary threw the auror an agitated glance.

"You will protect him, won't you?" she pleaded. "You will not allow the Dementors to hurt him...Mr Moody, please..."

The blood rushed to Snape's cheeks. He could not hear the auror's reply, nor was he interested in it. Mary had no business asking Moody on his behalf in such a way... Protect him, indeed!

He did not know what to think of "checking out of Azkaban". The auror's appearance was clear evidence that his absence was known to the Ministry. How Moody would be able to hush up the breakout and why he would want to do it, he could not imagine. Perhaps the Ministry had a reason to want a trial; therefore they might not give him straight to the Dementors. In any case, Mary's plea was not only pointless but humiliating as well; and he pressed his lips tightly together when Mary turned back to him.

He did not want a scene, and he was afraid to hear what she would say next. But she did not say anything; she merely looked at him as no girl had ever looked at Snape before.


	28. Surprises

Disclaimer: I owe the characters and the inspiration to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 28**

_Surprises_

Moody Summoned two broomsticks; and soon he and Snape were flying upwards. On the way, the auror cast two silver-white English foxhounds, which ran off in two different directions. Snape was silent, wrapped in thought, and Moody did not start a conversation either. In this manner, they approached Azkaban, but instead of flying towards the entrance, they followed the already well-known path leading to the cell window.

There they stopped, and Snape wondered what the auror was going to do: Was he about to interrogate him? But - no. Silently, Moody touched the wall with the tip of his wand, and at once the window vanished and a door materialized in the wall.

"Aurors' secret. For emergency situations," Moody explained. "_Never_ try to imitate it without authorization."

With this, he opened the door, and ushered Snape inside. If Snape thought he was surprised by the "aurors' secret", he had to realize that the true surprise was waiting for him behind the door.

The room was not dark at all, and the light fell on the furniture, on the various items that he had left there, and on a few other items which Snape did not remember owning, nor would his taste have ever approved of them. But he hardly noticed most of them: His stare was fixed on a red and gold rocking chair in the place of one of the usual chairs. He could only see the back of the rocking chair, in which someone was sitting, rocking himself. A small ball flew into the air from the chair. When it fell back, the rocking chair slowly turned around, and the wizard sitting in it stood up and greeted the newcomers with a ceremonious bow.

"Welcome to the Thousand Locks Hotel!" he said with an insolent grin that Snape would have liked to wipe off his face. "I _was_ looking forward to your arrival, indeed."

"Hurry up, Potter," Moody answered, "and don't start acting the fool."

James Potter stepped to the open door with an interested expression.

"I was expecting you from the other side," he said, still grinning.

"Take that broomstick quickly," Moody rasped, pointing at the broomstick that Snape had been using. "And take this, too."

Snape glanced over to see what the auror was giving Potter, and with horror he found that it was his wand, which he had handed over to Moody back on the island.

"Hide it and forget where it is," said Moody.

Potter nodded. Moody transfigured the rope back into an Azkaban uniform.

"I'll be back directly," he growled, scrutinizing Snape for several moments. "I hope you can name a wandless spell for shaving in case someone asks," he added.

The truth was that Snape had taken care _not_ to look like a prisoner ever since Mary had brought him a new wand, and the result was quite apparent even after a day spent hunting and fighting Death Eaters and fleeing Dementors.

Moody grabbed his broomstick and left with Potter following him closely. The door immediately disappeared. Potter's Patronus also vanished with Potter, and the cell turned cold and dark. Without a wand, Snape felt once again defenceless and vulnerable. He stared blankly at the solid wall for a while; then he reached for the Azkaban uniform and began getting ready for a bona fide prison-worn look.

Moody returned, escorted by a Dementor, which stuck its hooded head into the room, and let out a long, rattling sigh before going away.

"You should leave this cell as you found it," the auror muttered, pointing his wand ahead.

He promptly transfigured all the additional items of furniture and other objects into buttons, which he then put into a small textile bag, and hid in one of his numerous pockets. Just seconds later, they were walking down the long corridors and many, many stairs, towards the exit.

Suddenly Snape felt the auror's hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"One more thing," the old man muttered. "There is a ... formality that you have to go through. It will not take long. Do you understand?"

Snape did not ask what the formality was. He would find it out anyway. Shortly, he could feel the already well-known coldness as everything darkened, and three Dementors appeared, two of which seized him by the arms and dragged him aside. They held him so firmly that he could not move at all. A cold hand pushed his head back so that there was only one thing he could think of: Moody had deceived him, Moody had led him into a trap, and he would receive the Dementor's kiss for running away...

He could not see or do anything except shiver with cold, but the hood that he was expecting was not leaning above him. From behind the thick darkness and the cold, a voice was coming to him - the deep, raspy voice of a human being, and Snape would have been ready to acknowledge this voice to be the most beautiful baritone on Earth if he had been able to ponder such things now.

"A routine check for prohibited magical items," said the voice slowly. "It does not take more than a minute."

Snape caught a glimpse of the shiny object tracing his body as it was lifted to his face for an instant. It was some kind of detector, nothing else. Still, Moody was wrong in one respect: The examination surely lasted much longer than a minute. The auror must have thought the same, because the raspy voice growled again.

"If you can't find any magical objects on him, then there are no magical objects on him, and you have no right to prolong the test! I'm in a hurry." For the sake of emphasis, he added, "Expecto Patronum!"

The Dementors let go of Snape, and the light returned in the shape of Moody's hound dog. Snape had to struggle to avoid the ignominy of fainting, and he did all he could do to steady his steps as he was standing and walking on his own again.

"Can we go or do you want to sit down for a while?" asked Moody, who was already holding two broomsticks in his hands. He sounded as though he had asked the same question many times.

"Go," said Snape.

That was all he managed to answer.

They left the building. The Dementors kept a respectful distance from the silver hound dog. Outside the fortress, Moody fiddled with the broomsticks.

"Illegal possession of magical items," he muttered as though to himself only, "counts as a breakout attempt. Of course, no one has ever broken out of Azkaban, but there have been attempts... The Dementors have long held the right to choose their own punishment for anyone caught at trying to escape."

He glanced at Snape.

"They seem to think there were strange things going on in your cell. They were convinced you had managed to smuggle in something illegal... Even though they could sense you behind that door all the time, they thought they might discover something that could prove you guilty of attempted breakout."

As he was speaking, he chained the two broomsticks together, and he also chained Snape's wrist to his own. Snape, who was well aware of what Moody had saved him from, did not protest. In fact, he did not feel like saying anything at all, although his mind was swarming with questions. He was still under the impact of the Dementors' touch as they took off, and it even occurred to him that being chained to the auror might currently be safer than flying on his own.

What Moody thought of that, he did not know; but Moody removed the chain when they landed outside the Terminal, before steering Snape into the same office where he had been on the day of his arrest. There, after a tedious administration process, Snape got back his own clothes (they were a little loose now); while the few items he had had on his person that day - including his old wand - were given to Moody.

"If you are acquitted, you don't have to come back here," said the auror.

Snape thought they were leaving the building at last, but the auror did not lead him towards the exit. Instead, they turned into a corridor that Snape did not remember visiting the previous time. There was an open door at the end of the corridor, and there they entered.

Snape blinked. They were obviously in a tearoom. Wizards and witches in auror robes were sipping tea or coffee at tables covered with bright yellow and orange table cloths. The walls, too, were brightly coloured and ornamented with pictures of birds and flowers. Everything must have been designed with the purpose of creating the sharpest possible contrast with the gloomy atmosphere of the rest of The Terminal. Moody noticed Snape's astonishment.

"The best place on the whole island," he murmured, gesturing towards an empty table.

They sat down and a waitress arrived. Her robes matched the style of the tearoom, but she appeared weary and sad nevertheless. Moody growled something to her, and she hurried off. She soon returned, bringing plates for both of them. Staring at the sunshine-coloured plate in front of him - ham and eggs and toast accompanied by tea with milk and a large chocolate bar - Snape realized that he had not had any breakfast that day. Moody's plate was similar to his - except that the auror had not received any chocolate. Snape leaned back all the same, and did not touch anything.

Instead, he watched Moody, who had produced a mysterious instrument resembling a Muggle thermometer and was currently busy measuring his tea. Snape was sure he was not checking the temperature. After the tea, the auror examined the ham and eggs and each slice of toast as well, before glancing up.

"Not poisoned," he announced. "I suppose yours will be just as safe to consume."

"I can't pay for this," Snape replied stubbornly, pushing the plate away.

Somehow he found the chain had been easier to accept than _this_.

Moody gave him a long and hard look. Snape did not drop his gaze.

"Eat," Moody said curtly in the end. "This is a command."

Slowly and at first reluctantly, Snape obliged.

"This was good," said the auror when he finished. "I got up too early today to have a proper breakfast. You know," he added knowledgeably, "this is where the prisoners' meals are prepared, too."

The late breakfast turned bitter in Snape's mouth.

"They should try to cook something less disgusting for them then," he said darkly.

The auror shrugged.

"The food is the same as what everyone eats here. Unfortunately, as soon as it comes into contact with a Dementor - and there is no one else to serve it - it is spoiled."

His one eye swept the tearoom.

"The Terminal is a nasty workplace. The salaries are high, but no one is allowed to spend more than two years here. People end up with all sorts of diseases."

Moody did not chain Snape when they Apparated away from The Terminal; and they arrived at the Ministry nearly half an hour before the beginning of the trial. Snape had to wait therefore in a room designated for this purpose. A Dementor quickly turned up to guard him, but Moody sent the monster away (it left through a dark staircase leading downwards), and Moody himself stayed with Snape instead.

Neither of them uttered a single word while they were waiting. Moody was sitting, resting his feet, with the air of someone in his usual environment. Snape tried to sit, too, but he was reminded of the chair with the chains waiting for him in the courtroom, and he could not stay still. In the end, Moody rose with a tired groan, and Snape knew it was time to go. He assumed an expression of cold indifference (in any case, he attempted to do so), and he made every effort to walk steadily and to appear calm. He did not suppose that the auror walking by his side was deceived so easily, but he was clinging to the will to preserve his dignity.

There was an audience. He had hoped that his trial would not attract much interest, but as a Death Eater trial, it was bound to receive some attention. The walk across the courtroom seemed incredibly long. He could hear whispers and he could sense people staring at him - but he did not look at anyone. He was gazing fixedly at his destination - the chair with the chains in the middle of the large room. He would sit facing the Wizengamot, not the onlookers. He did not know why this was a comforting thought.

When he reached the chair, he felt a momentary relief not having to walk any further. But then the chains chained him, and it was an even nastier experience than what he had expected. He tried to ignore the awful feeling as much as it was possible, and with his heart beating wildly, he forced himself to take a glance at the council members sitting in front of him.

The man in the middle - Barty Crouch Sr. - stood up and opened the trial by asking his colleague to read out the charges against Snape. The silence that fell on the room was heavy and hostile. Cruch's colleague proved to be Icarus Vane, who sent a theatrical smile to the room at large before starting the reading.

The charges were the ones Snape had been aware of, and his eyes were now searching the place for Dumbledore, but he could not discover the professor anywhere. Of course, he was unable to turn around, and it was only a portion of the courtroom that he could actually see. After all, he had been _told_ that Dumbledore would attend the trial - still, it would have been reassuring to glimpse the tall, white-haired, white-bearded figure somewhere. Then again, perhaps it was weakness to wish that - it was _his_ trial, and he had to be able to go through it with or without Dumbledore or anyone else.

The discussion began with Snape's Death Eater past in general. Since he had already confessed to the fact itself, no further verification was necessary in this respect; and since no particular crimes were brought up against him, the prosecution focused on the motivation behind Snape's change of allegiance, with the obvious purpose of casting doubt on the sincerity of his actions.

The information that he had run away from the Dark Lord's _prison_ aroused the council members' curiosity, while no one seemed even remotely interested in _why_ he had got there in the first place. Snape saw how it could lead to the conclusion that his change of heart had been nothing else but a way of seeking refuge and vengeance, but he kept answering the questions coldly with pretended calmness. His replies were short, precise and factual, even though this clearly was not the winning strategy in this situation. Of one thing he was certain: He was not going to start a spectacular demonstration of self-accusation and remorse. If that was the price of freedom, he would not pay it. He had left the Dark Lord because of Lily, but that was a personal matter that he did not want to share. He surely understood that it had been a mistake to join the Death Eaters and he wished he had never done it, but he was _not_ going to give a sentimental speech.

The bare facts, however, were subject to various interpretations.

"So the differences between the accused and the Wizard-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named led to the imprisonment of the accused, who, as a consequence, turned his back on said dark wizard," was Mr Vane's summary.

"This is not the full story yet," said a clear, stern voice, which made Snape feel a light tremble running across his body, and he closed his eyes, but only for a moment. "There are witnesses whose testimony can prove the selfless heroism of the wizard you are accusing of dark practices."

Lily stepped into the centre of the Wizengamot's semi-circle. Snape only saw her back and her red hair, but his heart rate increased further. What was _Lily_ doing at his trial?

The members of the Wizengamot wondered the same, and Lily explained that Professor Dumbledore had been unable to arrive at the beginning of the trial but he was still coming later, and she, Lily Potter, was substituting him and representing the defence until Dumbledore's arrival, which might happen any minute now. Crouch apparently knew about this change, and Lily was allowed to begin.

Although certain details were really, really no one else's business, it was gratifying to hear Lily give an account of how Snape had risked his life to rescue her and her husband, and how she had secretly given him back the Felix Felicis, which had ultimately made his survival possible. If Snape remained cold and unemotional, Lily's speech, in contrast, was full of passion, which did not escape Snape's attention.

Unfortunately, as it could be expected (and as Snape had indeed fully expected), this was not enough to convince the Wizengamot. The discussion promptly turned again to his motivation, the question he had wanted to avoid most.

"What Death Eater would risk his life to save their leader's enemies?" Mr Crouch asked severely. "Why anyone who is capable of such sacrifice would join the Dark Side at all?"

Snape stared at Crouch, who was waiting for his reply with a rigid, frosty expression. He was too far to discover the circles round the politician's eyes, but he had enough experience to recognize despair when he saw it. He had the answer - the _real_ answer - to the question ready - but not for this man or for anyone who had come here to judge him.

"Mrs Potter and I were friends when we were children," he said simply.

It sounded very unnatural to refer to Lily as _Mrs Potter_, but he used the name to shield what he wanted to keep strictly to himself. Mr Vane was shaking his head.

"Would you have given up your life for a _childhood friend_?" he asked incredulously.

His tone left no doubt about what he thought of this claim.

"Yes," Snape replied impassively.

"How noble", said Mr Vane with obvious sarcasm.

"Exactly," Lily snapped. "Very noble, indeed!"

"Unless," Mr Vane continued still in the same tone, "it all happened on You-Know-Who's orders."

"It didn't," Snape said, fighting back the fury that was about to burst out of him. "I was acting against his express wishes."

"Can it be proven?"

"Oh, yes, it can," said Lily quickly. "The role Severus Snape played in bringing down You-Know-Who is proof of his true allegiance."

She raised her voice.

"Perhaps it is a plausible possibility that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would allow two of his captives to escape so that he could plant a spy close to Professor Dumbledore. It is very unlikely, however, that he would want to have his whole prison destroyed and all his captives freed just to enable this spy to keep his cover."

Lily went on to relate the destruction of the Dark Lord's prison and the downfall of the Dark Lord in detail. Snape was still unable to see her face, but as he was listening to her, he could feel all anxiety leaving him. Lily was defending him, and she was doing so in front of many, many wizards and witches. She was speaking about him like an extremely brave and good man, like a hero. He knew that Dumbledore would be a more powerful and more influential protector, but listening to Lily's speech was almost worth the chains that were binding him. He did not even realize it, but his so far tense body relaxed (as much as the chains allowed it), and he was watching what was taking place in front of his eyes as though he was a spectator at the beginning of a theatre play, in which the conflict the drama was to be centred around had not started unfolding yet.

He could still be found guilty and taken back to Azkaban - the murder of Mr Caulis was yet to be discussed - but Lily was standing up for him with admirable courage, Moody had saved him from the worst; and Mary... Mary had brought him light and warmth in the darkest and coldest hour. With fresh, not-yet-known self-confidence born of their trust, he raised his head proudly, certain that he possessed enough fortitude to bear whatever was in store for him. Gradually, some wonderful tranquillity filled his soul, enabling him to believe that no matter what the verdict would be, he had nothing to fear.


	29. The Memory

Disclaimer: The characters and the HP world are owned by J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 29**

_The Memory_

The defence presented witnesses, and Snape watched them as though in a dream.

In a reserved, emotionless style, James Potter related how Snape had saved him and others from death several times, and how Snape had fought during the siege of the Dark Lord's prison and what part he had played in the Dark Lord's downfall. Mary turned up, too – she seemed distant and official, and did not betray their closeness with as much as a glance at Snape – and she told the Wizengamot how Snape had rescued her from the snakes and the fire. Moody, the auror who had been in charge of Snape before his arrest, asserted that Snape had proved himself loyal to the Order of the Phoenix during the island mission.

"Very well," said Mr Crouch finally, "however, Severus Snape must answer for a crime that makes a true change of character very doubtful. Turning against his former allies and fighting on our side may only illustrate his revengeful nature if he otherwise keeps to his old, dark practices, including the use of Unforgiveable Curses. We have substantial evidence against him as the murderer of Mr Caulis, the wizard who had revealed his past to the wizarding community."

The evidence was duly presented. By means of a Projecting Charm, everyone in the courtroom was able to view the memory that Mr Caulis had sent to the Daily Prophet. The memory featured Snape's spitting image snarling and yelling death threats at Mr Caulis, and at least once shaking him cruelly. On his ring-finger, Mulciber's ring with the snake-patterned decoration was perfectly visible. The memory ended with a very effective close-up of the attacker's livid face, his teeth bared.

Oddly, the experience brought back to Snape an almost forgotten memory of his own – the memory of a Muggle movie theatre, where Lily's parents had taken him along a couple of times in that pre-Hogwarts time when Snape had not yet heard of James Potter or the Dark Lord. Returning to the reality of the present, where the "movie" was showing his own not-at-all-flattering picture, Snape had nothing to prove his innocence with, except the fact that he had been away on the Order mission at the time of the murder. This claim was questioned by the prosecution, and Moody's testimony was needed again.

"I was suspicious of him," he said gruffly, "as I would be of all Death Eaters, past or present. Therefore I watched him, which was my duty anyway. He could not leave the island unnoticed."

"Did you watch Severus Snape _continuously_?"

"Yes, I did," Moody answered, in a slightly irritable voice.

"_All the time every day_?"

It was clear that Mr Vane would press these questions until Moody was bound to acknowledge that there were moments when he had to take his eyes off Snape.

"Yes," said Moody, "except when I left the island."

"Well, well… How many times did that happen?"

"Once every day - but I never left him without supervision, of course."

"You left him with the rest of the group, I suppose."

"I left him with the rest of the group, including the Order member who was responsible for him while I was away."

"Who was that Order member?"

_Pettigrew_, Snape thought with absolute certainty. _It must have been Pettigrew._ His alibi being dependent on the testimony of a Death Eater, who could give no testimony at all, was poor luck.

"I was the one," Lily came forward unexpectedly. "I watched him while Alastor Moody was occupied elsewhere."

The courtroom took a sudden spin with Snape, and he heard nothing of the words following the revelation. He felt he could not bear the chains around him any more, and his head was close to exploding with tension.

_Lily_ spying on him? Could that be true? Perhaps she was making it up for his sake now… But what about Moody? The auror was not objecting to Lily's statement, he was not even surprised by it … Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that whatever he had been doing during Moody and Potter's trips to the Dark Lord's island, Lily had always been nearby. At the time he had thought that it had something to do with Potter's absence – that she had meant to be kind to him, but found it easier without Potter at her heels. It had seemed logical… Now he had to learn that all those gestures of friendship had been only Order work, a practical consequence of _Moody_'s absence, nothing else.

If she had mentioned it to him, he would now know that she had not truly believed that spying on him was necessary. But she had never even alluded to it… she had not trusted him; she had only pretended it... He recalled their chance meeting by the forest pool, where Lily had first talked to him about the Stone of Loss. Had she been purposefully following him then, after noticing that he had drifted away from the rest of the group?

Snape tried to mentally shake himself. Moody had taught everyone constant vigilance. Yet, Lily certainly trusted him now, and that was what mattered. All the same, his pride had suffered a blow.

"Excuse me," Mr Vane was just saying, "but did not the accused claim you had been childhood friends? You don't seem to deny it; and it that case, it is only natural that you are inclined to be biased in his favour."

"We were not friends," said Lily earnestly "while Severus was a Death Eater. We are friends now because I know without doubt that he deeply regrets his former bad choice and has done everything in his power to atone for it. We all know that Auror Moody and Severus were never friends, and yet, Auror Moody has reached this very same conclusion."

Snape saw the auror nod in agreement, and at the same moment, Mr Vane turned to him.

"Severus Snape, both Mrs Potter and Auror Moody are confident that you did not leave the island on any secret errands when the murder was committed. Can you Apparate?"

"Yes, I can," Snape replied stiffly. He understood the insinuation perfectly.

"You must understand," Lily cut in, "that no one, not even one of us, was able to leave or enter the island without a special tool which was continuously safeguarded by Moody."

"Is that correct?" Vane asked the auror.

"Yes, it is."

"And yet," said the Ministry official triumphantly, "we all know that you were attacked by a large group of Death Eaters while you were on the island. Pardon me for mentioning it, but security must have left much to be desired there."

Someone in the audience laughed, and Vane's eyes glinted malignantly.

"Perhaps," - he continued, addressing Snape again, "you needed an accomplice, but we know that You-Know-Who had quite enough followers… Once on the island, using Polyjuice Potion to pretend you are still in the company of the members of the Order of the Phoenix would not be technically very difficult for a Death Eater, would it?"

"No, I suppose not", Snape was trying hard to avoid grinding his teeth. "But in the same way, someone else may have been able to use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate me and to leave the memory in the mind of Mr Caulis."

"Can you name anyone who was likely to commit murder while impersonating you?"

"The Dark Lord," said Snape "considered me a traitor. He could not catch me while I was at Hogwarts or with the Order, so he may well have resorted to this method instead."

"Were you – I hope you don't mind the question – _important _enough for him to take all this trouble merely to avenge your desertion?"

"The Dark Lord did not tolerate disobedience or disloyalty. He would punish any follower who was unlucky enough to arouse his suspicion lest some of the others plucked up the courage to challenge his authority in any form."

Mr Vane appeared to be making notes on a piece of parchment. When he finished, he looked at Snape in a way that _could have been_ intimidating, and brought up a new topic.

"Since you are reported to be an expert at potions, you can probably tell me what the most important ingredient of Polyjuice Potion is."

"All ingredients are important," said Snape. "None of them can be left out without spoiling the potion."

"I was referring to the human part ingredient," Mr Vane said. "I may have sounded unprofessional, but I know at least that Polyjuice Potion requires a part of the person to be impersonated. Is that so?"

"Yes, of course."

"Very well," Mr Vane nodded. "Can you name anyone who was likely to commit the murder and was close enough to you to acquire this ingredient from you? I thought you had broken all ties with Death Eaters. Did any of them pat you on the shoulder; shake your hand or otherwise get into bodily contact with you while you were living and working at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

This was obviously a trap – confessing to any contact with Death Eaters after his escape from the Dark Lord's prison would have resulted in suspicion. But he had had no contacts with Death Eaters at the time, and although he had been thinking of this question earlier, he could not come up with any idea how Mulciber had managed to impersonate him so perfectly. He should have asked Mulciber – but it was too late now.

In vain he knew who the murderer was – he could prove nothing, and he was even unable to explain where he had got this information without mentioning the breaking out of Azkaban or lying about some sort of contact with dark wizards. Neither of these options seemed safe.

"Do you have any definite _proof_ that I murdered anyone?" he snapped suddenly. "Did you examine my wand, for example?"

"Yes," Mr Vane answered slowly. "The aurors examined your wand, and we know that the examination yielded no results – as it should be in the case of a well-planned crime. Criminals very often use multiple wands."

"Can you name my alleged accomplice who supposedly substituted for me on the island while I left secretly?"

"I have been informed," said Mr Crouch, "that someone betrayed the group to the Dark Side. Auror Moody, can you confirm this information?"

"The traitor was Peter Pettigrew," the auror replied. "We have no reason to suppose that he had any accomplices among us."

"I do see a reason," said Mr Vane. "Pettigrew may well have covered up for Severus Snape while he committed the murder."

"In that case, we would have noticed Pettigrew's absence," Moody growled.

"Was he _never_ absent?"

"Yes, he was," said the auror, "but we know that he visited _You-Know-Who_ then – not Mr Caulis."

"Could he have gone missing unnoticed another time perhaps? Did anyone keep an eye on him?"

"Of course, no one watched Pettigrew," the auror said, "but there were not many of us on the island."

"And yet, Pettigrew managed to betray you all because you trusted him. That makes it entirely possible that no one took note of his absence on yet another occasion – only this time Pettigrew did not really leave, but played the role of Severus Snape, who was closely watched, to provide him with an alibi."

"It is equally possible," said Moody, "that Pettigrew left the island and visited Mr Caulis in the shape of Severus Snape."

Snape shuddered. He knew that the murderer was Mulciber, but perhaps Pettigrew had played a part, too. On the island, or maybe even earlier, at Hogwarts, after the meeting, Pettigrew might have chanced upon a hair from him. He might have picked it up from his robes with a sudden idea, or he might have purposefully searched for it.

"Is anyone able to verify this idea?" asked Mr Vane. "As far as I know, we are not in a position to interrogate Peter Pettigrew."

He rose and was now speaking to the Wizengamot.

"The evidence we do have at the moment is unquestionably pointing to Severus Snape as the murderer. These fantastic stories about mysteriously disappearing Death Eaters and the Wizard-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whose whereabouts no one can tell, need proof at least as strong as the genuine memory that Mr Caulis personally entrusted to the Daily Prophet."

A wave of approving murmur passed across the rows of the council members. In acknowledgement, Mr Vane made a delicate bow towards them, and continued:

"We all know that Severus Snape had good reason to hate Mr Caulis for bravely exposing his dirty past to the unsuspecting wizarding community. From an objective viewpoint, the same dirty past sadly makes him a very probable culprit. Despite his friends' claims to the contrary, it is much more difficult to break up with such a past than some of our fellow wizards and witches innocently believe. But even these friends admit that Severus Snape was seen wearing Death Eater robes on the very day of his arrest. Was that only pretence or is it possible that he was showing his true colours on that day? Had he played a double game all along, himself forgetting in the end where his true loyalties lay? Or had he been loyal all this time to himself only, changing his methods and his allegiance as dictated by his own narrow-minded, momentary interests?"

Snape slowly looked round. Vane was undoubtedly an effective orator. He caught Lily's glance briefly: She seemed worried and indignant. She was shaking her head frantically, and Snape knew there was nothing more she could do.

"I myself interrogated the accused a few days ago," said Mr Vane. "All I can say is that he showed no inclination to give decent answers to my inquiries. Attempting to withhold information from the Ministry is additional, indirect proof of his guilt."

"Veritaserum!" Lily shouted suddenly. "Why don't you use Veritaserum? Then you will know that he is telling the truth!"

Snape's stomach was shrinking rapidly. Even under the influence of Veritaserum, he could only say that he had not murdered, but what if they started to question him about other things? He might easily spill out far more than what he intended to share with the Wizengamot. Refusing the chance, however, would be the same as pleading guilty.

"We do not use truth serums at our trials," said Crouch, eyeing Snape intently. "The generally perceived reliability of these substances would give the confession too much weight, in spite of the scientific fact that different people react differently to truth serums. Some can resist their effect to the extent that they might be able to deceive the Wizengamot entirely. What is more, the accused sitting in front of us has held a potions-related job; therefore the nature of his expertise must also caution us against this proposal."

Mr Crouch paused, and when he spoke again, his voice became rough to the point of being outright hostile.

"No real Death Eater should ever escape justice, regardless of who his friends are! The members of this council have heard the arguments of the defence and the prosecution, and soon they will have to decide whether the accused deserves to be convicted as a murderer and _as a follower of The-Wizard-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. For the last time, I must ask the defence if they can present any more evidence to prove their claims. If not, this trial need not last much longer."

"Yes, we can," a deep, calm voice responded far behind Snape's back, at the other end of the courtroom.

The chains did not let him turn around, as many other people in the courtroom did. But for him, it was not necessary. He recognized the voice without doubt, and he knew that the man to whom the voice belonged was now approaching the centre of the room, the seats of the Wizengamot. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds and he would see Albus Dumbledore, coming to fulfil his promise to him, after all.

The professor was not alone. Following him closely, a tall and thin wizard was being marched towards the council at wandpoint by two other wizards. The captive appeared uncharacteristically meek and tame, but otherwise he was perfectly recognizable; and Snape gaped at the group as though he was watching a herd of gracefully dancing Hungarian Horntails, for this sight was neither more probable, nor more believable. When and how had Dumbledore caught Mulciber? How had he known that Mulciber had to be found?

"I must apologize for being late," said Dumbledore, "but I have just recently discovered the most important evidence that this council must see before making a decision in Severus Snape's case. Luckily, I have arrived in time."

Snape thought it was lucky indeed – a few more minutes and Dumbledore might have arrived too late. He could not know that the professor had been standing at the door for quite a while, waiting for the best moment to present the evidence.

Crouch and Vane exchanged a quick look. Dumbledore's appearance was clearly bad news.

"What is the evidence?" Crouch inquired in a dull tone.

"Members of the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore replied, "have successfully found and captured the Death Eater responsible for the murder of Mr Caulis. Let me ask the Wizengamot to listen to him very carefully."

Mulciber stepped forward, and – although he was neither chained, nor otherwise forced to do anything – he began recounting the story of the late shopkeeper.

"The Dark Lord knew that Severus Snape, the traitor, had found refuge with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, and he decided to force him to leave his hidey-hole. He ordered me to place an article in the Daily Prophet about Snape's past. I found a respectable wizard, who was above suspicion, and who was at the same time easy to reach and to manipulate. It was Mr Caulis. I Imperiused him and made him seek out the Daily Prophet's journalist and tell him that Severus Snape was a dangerous Death Eater. When Severus Snape was allowed to stay at Hogwarts all the same, the Dark Lord ordered me to kill Mr Caulis so that Snape would be the suspected murderer."

At this point, Snape could not quite suppress a menacing growl, but Mulciber did not seem to notice.

"Mr Caulis was completely in my power, thanks to the Imperius Curse. He would do anything that I told him to do. I wanted to create a genuine memory in his head about meeting Severus Snape and being afraid of him. Then I had to make sure that this memory survived his death. I used Polyjuice Potion to look like Snape. It was the Dark Lord's idea."

"How did you acquire the human part ingredient?" asked a bespectacled old witch among the members of the council.

"The Dark Lord had a spy," said Mulciber. "Peter Pettigrew. He had been at Hogwarts before the Order of the Phoenix attacked the Dark Lord's island and he had met Snape. He brought back a hair from him that day."

"Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore put in, "was an unregistered Animagus. He was able to change into a rat, and in this shape, he had easy access into any room at Hogwarts. It can't have been very difficult to find a hair in a bedroom or a bathroom if the thief was able to run about unnoticed."

"Everything went according to the plan", Mulciber continued. "I visited Mr Caulis pretending to be Severus Snape and threatened him. He was very frightened. Later, I made him extract the memory and send it to the Daily Prophet in a letter. Then all I had to do was kill Mr Caulis."

"Did _you_ kill Mr Caulis?" the witch asked sternly.

"Yes, I did," Mulciber answered. "The Dark Lord will be satisfied when he returns."

"Take him away," said Crouch sharply.

Two aurors hurried to Mulciber, but before they could grab him, Mulciber quickly turned around and glared at Snape.

"It gives me pleasure to see you in chains," he hissed. "You may have captured me, but don't think that it is the end of the story yet. I hope we will be cellmates in Azkaban! It should be fun."

The aurors began dragging him away, but Mr Vane rose from his seat and raised his hand.

"One more minute, please," he said. "Perhaps this Death Eater could share some more information with us about the accused. Why do you think," he asked, turning to Mulciber, "that you and Severus Snape may be cellmates in Azkaban? Do you know anything incriminating about him? If you do, this is the place to tell it."

"I know what I know," Mulciber replied defiantly. "He _was_ a Death Eater, after all, wasn't he? You must have arrested him with a reason."

"He was arrested as a former Death Eater and as the suspected murderer of Mr Caulis," Vane explained coldly. "I thought this was obvious. If you know anything that could promote justice-"

Snape knew what Vane was hoping for. He knew that Vane had recognized the potential ally in Mulciber, who would be quite ready to help lock Snape up. Mulciber actually laughed, although bitterly.

"Justice indeed! Since when does the Ministry permit suspected murderers to hunt for other suspects? Are you _that_ short of aurors nowadays?"

"What are you talking about?" Mr Vane whispered. "Were you not captured by the Order of the Phoenix?"

He was obviously too excited to speak up.

"Snape is a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Mulciber answered. "_He_ captured me yesterday."

Mr Vanes's pupils widened. Crouch leaned ahead.

"Severus Snape has been in Azkaban for weeks," he said. "If he had been released, I would know about it."

"Then you may want to make him explain what illegal magic he used to break out," said Mulciber, nearly chuckling with malicious delight. "He may not be much of a fighter, but he knows some rare tricks, I am quite sure of that. He learned the Dark Arts in the school of the Dark Lord before betraying him; and make no mistake about it, he was a very eager student!"

"Use of illegal dark magic in Azkaban," Vane repeated emphatically, "leaving the prison without permission... Let me warn you that these are serious accusations to make, and unless you are able to verify them, you will have to suffer the legal consequences."

Snape closed his eyes. _There_ was the flaw in the plan. Yet, if he was not guilty of murder and had returned on his own – on his own? – after the escape, and had even found the real murderer, that should count for something, even though he probably had to confess to dark practices if he wanted to avoid incriminating Mary. He began mentally composing his explanation, when he heard the noise of light feet running towards the council.

"You must not believe him!" screamed Mary. "He finds pleasure in ruining others! Dark tricks indeed! _I_ was there! _I_ knew how he was captured!"

She wheeled around and shouted directly at Mulciber.

"_I_ wanted to capture you; and you know very well why! You had kidnapped me and my poor granddad! I owed him that much!"

"Silence!" Crouch bellowed. "Everyone can speak in turn. Mulciber first."

Trembling with emotion, Mary obeyed, and the Death Eater reluctantly told the story of his captivity in the cave and how Snape and Mary had attacked him there. He recounted everything except what had taken place between Snape and Avery. It meant that either they had not had the chance to discuss it or Mulciber had left out that part as unimportant. He did mention Avery though, and Mr Vane promptly asked where Avery was.

"Avery played no part in the Mr Caulis case," said Dumbledore, "and at the moment he is not yet fit to be interrogated."

Snape wondered what had happened to Avery. The last time he had seen him, he had been quite as healthy as Mulciber. Snape stole a glance at Dumbledore, but the professor did not look back at him. He could only hope that Dumbledore had counted on this turn of events and knew what to do next. Dumbledore, however, showed no intention to say more.

"So you are certain," said Mr Crouch, "that Severus Snape was the wizard who fought you in the cave yesterday."

"Yes, I am," Mulciber replied.

"And you are certain," Mr Crouch said to Mary, "that Severus Snape was _not_ with you in that cave when you fought this Death Eater?"

Snape forgot about the chains and struggled to stand up and speak at the same time. He could not hide behind Mary, he could not let her shield him. But the chains were strong and he was almost choking. No one paid any attention to him.

"Yes, I am," said Mary desperately.

Snape's heart sank. Mary could have stayed out of trouble this time. He would rather have confessed to breakout with the help of a little dark magic than reveal her true role in the events. Now she was bound to suffer with him again, because how long was it possible to stick to such a pathetic lie?

"Let us ask the accused then," Crouch suggested, glancing at Snape.


	30. The Wand

Disclaimer: The HP world with all these inspiring characters belongs to J.K. Rowling, of course.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 30**

_The Wand_

Snape had known a few tight corners before, but this time there seemed to be no good solution. He could support Mary's testimony only until someone remembered that there was a memory-viewing device in the courtroom. However, if he admitted that Mulciber was telling the truth, Mary would immediately be arrested – therefore the lesser of the two evils was to play along. If the truth came out, he could probably convince the council that Mary had been Confunded or maybe Imperiused. Crouch and Vane would be eager to believe him if he took credit for _that_ offence as well.

Crouch was waiting, and he had no more time to contemplate his answer.

"The accused knows nothing about these events," said a male voice suddenly from the rows of the audience. "He has been in Azkaban for weeks. The prank was my idea. And, Mary, I think we ought to share it with all those who are interested in it."

With a mixture of resentment and disbelief, Snape gaped at Potter, who was again coming to the centre of the courtroom. What was the crazy Gryffindor doing? It was only because of Mary that he did not refuse this unexpected interference at once.

"What do you have to do with anything?" growled Mulciber.

"The truth is," said Potter aloud "that _I_ was yesterday in the cave with Mary, and with her help, _I_ captured this murderer!"

"Liar!" Mulciber hissed, making a threatening gesture.

The aurors quickly chained him.

Snape caught a glimpse of Mary's expression, and saw that her bewilderment was similar to his. She, Potter and Snape were walking into a complicated spider web of lies, in which they could become hopelessly ensnared. Fortunately, no one was looking at Mary or Snape, because everyone's attention was focused on Potter and Mulciber.

Potter did not mind Mulciber. He was talking exclusively to the council.

"Our version of the cave story will shed light on certain obscure details. Since the idea that causes the confusion was originally mine, it is my duty to explain everything," he said in a polite, disarming manner, which sent involuntary, benevolent smiles to several faces in the Wizengamot, and the council members appeared to have forgotten about Snape.

"Yesterday, Mary and I set out to capture Mulciber and Avery in the cave that Mulciber has already described. I had been obliged to run away from St Mungo's, where they would have kept me forever because of a few battle wounds. The hospital staff will surely confirm this fact if you inquire."

_How fortunate it was that breaking out of St Mungo's was not a crime_. Snape wondered whether Potter's departure from the hospital had coincided with his escape from Azkaban.

"Did you know that Mulciber had committed the murder?" asked Mr Vane.

"Of course, we did," Potter hurried to answer. "But we had to prove it, too."

"How could you know of it?"

"The Daily Prophet published a photo based on the Mr Caulis-memory while we were on the Order's island, and Snape recognized Mulciber," Potter replied after a short pause. "When I heard about the murder later, I only had to put two and two together."

"Snape recognized Mulciber?" Mr Vane sounded incredulous.

Potter shrugged.

"He seemed quite sure."

"Can the accused explain that?"

Snape saw no way back now.

"I recognized Mulciber's ring," he said wearily. "A black stone and a snake. I had seen it before. He may still be wearing it."

Muttering swear words under his breath, Mulciber shot a look of pure hatred towards Snape.

"How did you know where to find the Death Eater?" Crouch asked.

"It was Mary who figured it out," Potter said smoothly. "She is a very clever girl."

Snape regarded Mary with apprehension. He was certain that she had acted out of desperation when she had accused Mulciber of lying, and she was not prepared to improvise much more. But she was fighting bravely. What she told the Wizengamot was as close to the truth as possible. She spoke about the visit she had paid to Moody in St Mungo's, and she explained how Mulciber and Avery had taken Moody's auxiliary wand – there a separate explanation about the auxiliary wands was inserted – and in the end, the only actual lie was that, with a sudden inspiration, she had gone to James Potter with the news (since Potter had been in another ward nearby) and they had decided to go after Mulciber together.

"You see, we were both deeply indebted to Severus," she added earnestly. (At this point, Potter threw a quick, annoyed glance at Snape.) "And I was not going to allow Mulciber to ruin any more lives."

Mulciber began to protest angrily, but the council members wanted to hear Potter's version.

"At the beginning of the cave adventure," Potter continued calmly, "I had an idea."

Despite his aversion, even Snape found himself admiring the dunderhead's nerve for a full unguarded moment.

"I thought it would be a great surprise if I attacked him in the shape of his victim, Mr Caulis. Unfortunately, neither of us had known Mr Caulis, and we could not even guess what he had looked like. Our short discussion gave me another idea though: I could try to imitate Snape, who was suffering for the crime that Mulciber had committed, and therefore he was also Mulciber's victim."

"How was that possible?" Mr Vane asked. "Don't tell me you just happened to have the necessary dose of Polyjuice Potion with you!"

"Blimey, not at all!" Potter exclaimed. "I don't like bothering with potions; I leave it to my wife if I can. But I was able to transfigure myself enough to deceive someone with a guilty conscience in a darkish cave."

"Such a trick needs very advanced transfiguration skills," Mr Crouch interrupted.

"Thank you," said Potter congenially. "Transfiguration was always one of my strongest points at school, besides Quidditch. But you'd better ask Professor Dumbledore about that."

"James Potter was one of our most gifted students at Hogwarts," agreed the professor, who had already taken his seat in the rows of the Wizengamot. "He was especially good at Transfiguration."

Potter pointed his wand at his own face, murmured a series of spells; and then he slowly turned around for everyone to see him. A loud peal of laughter shook the audience, and even some members of the venerable council indulged their urge to giggle. Lily could hardly hide a smirk, and Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily at the sight before him.

In contrast, Crouch appeared unmoved by the demonstration. Vane was clapping (condescendingly rather than enthusiastically), Mulciber snorted, and Mary still seemed far too confused for someone who had supposedly been in on the trick from the beginning.

Snape did not find the spectacle amusing at all. He felt a rush of hatred as soon as he saw Potter's dramatically altered face, knowing that James Potter had done – again – something unforgivable against him. Potter's eyes were now black and angry; his complexion a deadly sort of pale, his thin lips opened in a sneer to reveal ugly, literally yellow teeth, his nose was unnaturally long and hooked, while his hair had been replaced by some shiny black stuff framing his face in an appalling manner. Potter did not look like Snape – not in the sense of the similarity that Polyjuice Potion would have produced – he merely parodied Snape, showing a grotesque, exaggerated image, which was not true but perfectly recognizable, magnifying all the disadvantages of his features and obviously designed to ridicule him.

To make things worse, there was no denying that Potter was showing off really remarkable transfiguration skills, for which he would be congratulated quite as much as he, Snape, was laughed at – provided Potter got out of this mess unscathed, which was by no means certain yet.

A few flips of the prat's wand, and the prat regained his original face, no matter how much Snape wished that he got stuck with that hideous caricature he had produced. Potter even bowed to the Wizengamot, like an actor expecting applause.

It was clear that many members of the council were now favourably disposed to this boyish, entertaining and talented witness; and as for the audience, they would probably have demanded the continuation of Potter's story if anyone had attempted to refuse them this pleasure. All this did not make the slightest impression on Snape, who wanted nothing more than personally distort Potter's features into those of a baboon; and he could easily have done something utterly foolish in his fury if the chains had not reminded him of his precarious situation.

Potter continued entertaining his audience, recounting how funny it had been to fool Mulciber, who by this time must have become just as livid as Snape was, but, fortunately, he could do just as little about it. Potter finished by emphasizing that Mulciber had had every reason to think he had met Snape in the cave, but he had been wrong all the same and – naturally – how could anyone suppose that _Snape_ might have been able to escape from the most secure prison in the world?

Mary did not add much to the story; she simply supported everything that Potter said, when she was asked. Snape, likewise, could do no more but confirm that he had indeed been in Azkaban ever since his arrest, although he would very much have liked to let everyone know that it had been Severus Snape, not James Potter, who had caught the two Death Eaters.

"The problem is", said Mr Vane, eyeing Snape observantly, "that the guards of Azkaban did not think that everything was all right with you. They seemed to suspect there was magic in your cell. They experienced things that – if true – could only be due to magic. _Illegal _magic."

Snape stared back at Vane with an inscrutable expression. Vane's gaze glided away from him and swept various other faces until his attention was caught by Mary. She was pale, and her eyes, eloquent with worry, were fixed on Vane. The Ministry official's gaze met hers, and she immediately looked away. Snape saw it all, and he knew that Mary had just betrayed her knowledge of something that Vane could only suspect, something that Vane had just been referring to.

Icarus Vane realized that magic had been performed in Snape's cell. Vane remembered the empty parchment which should have contained Snape's detailed – though false – confession of murder, perhaps he even remembered the hand movement with which Snape had (almost) reached for his wand. He did not know about Mary's presence, but he knew that Snape would not have been able to escape that trap without magic, and now he also knew that Mary was aware of it, too.

To the Wizengamot, Vane could not explain how he had found out about Snape's use of magic without getting himself into an awkward position, but he would probably grasp any opportunity that someone else's testimony offered.

"Auror Moody, please," Vane said.

Moody rose from his seat and limped ahead again, noticeably more grumpily than before.

"Auror Moody," Vane began his question, "you have brought the accused from Azkaban to this courtroom – what was your impression of Severus Snape when you first saw him today?"

"My impression was," Moody answered, "that he was as desperate as anyone in his position would be. He was also rather hungry, I think."

The audience giggled. Vane sounded angry when he spoke again.

"Did you discover any trace of illegal magic that could be associated with Severus Snape?"

_Aurors are very reliable witnesses_. Dumbledore's words echoed in Snape's mind as though the old wizard had just uttered them now.

"Don't you think," Moody said, "that I should have reported it if I had? By the way, the Dementors examined him with a magic-detector in front of me. They did not find anything."

"I am not speaking about those creatures," Vane said impatiently. "I am asking you, Auror Moody. Tell me with a plain yes or no, as an auror of sound judgement - did you notice _anything _that could make one at least suspect the use of illegal magical devices in the case of Severus Snape during his captivity in Azkaban?"

Vane's nostrils were trembling with excitement. No one who knew Moody had ever heard of a situation in which the auror was not suspicious of something or somebody. And Snape recalled another detail that, back in the Azkaban cell, Dumbledore had also told him about aurors – that they could expect extraordinarily severe punishment if caught giving false evidence in court. But he did not have much time to ponder his chances.

"No, I did not," said Moody with conviction after only a brief moment's consideration. "I found everything in perfect order."

He did not say more, and the silence that ensued left no doubt that Moody's words had weight. Snape chose not to look at Mary, however much he would have liked to see the relief in her eyes, because Vane was watching, and even a hastily exchanged glance could have spoken volumes to the keen-eyed observer.

"So what about the Dementors' observation?" Vane burst out.

He was apparently getting desperate. Crouch, on the other hand, seemed to be unimpressed and annoyed. Perhaps he had already given up the Snape-case as a bad job. Suddenly Dumbledore spoke.

"Let me remind the council," he said gravely, "that only magical items are prohibited in Azkaban, magic itself is not. Magic is not only in wands and other objects, it is also present in wizards and witches, as we all know well. Even if wizards are deprived of all magical devices, including their wands, their own magic will prevail, its strength varying from wizard to wizard. While this power is not likely to make an escape from Azkaban possible, it can be strong enough, in some cases, for the Dementors to sense it or to become uncomfortable with it even. The wizard cannot help this power; therefore possessing it is not a crime in any circumstances."

Many members of the Wizengamot seemed to agree, and Snape hoped that the subject would be dropped at last. Vane turned to Mulciber.

"Are you still convinced that Severus Snape was out of Azkaban yesterday?"

Mulciber glared at Vane for several seconds before responding.

"I can only say what I saw, and I saw Severus Snape. This story of transfiguration is possible, but who says that it is actually true? Potter is able to transfigure himself into Snape's spitting image, but did he really do it yesterday in that cave? I don't know."

"Mr Potter," said Vane, "the only thing that your very interesting story lacks is hard evidence that it did really take place. Can you give us _proof_ that you were indeed in the cave yesterday?"

"I reckon Mary can verify everything that I told you," Potter replied, sounding offended.

Snape heard some faint applause coming from the audience. Some people were already convinced of the veracity of Potter's testimony.

"But if you need more tangible evidence; well, here it is:"

Potter reached into his pocket and took out something that he showed to the Wizengamot. Snape could not see what it was, but he did not have to wait long for the explanation.

"This," said Potter, "is the wand that I used in the cave. Perhaps Mulciber can recognize it, too."

Snape could see that Mary just barely suppressed a scream of surprise, and he knew that Potter had just presented the wand that Mary had brought to Azkaban, claiming that it was his own.

"Another wand?" Mr Vane asked with narrowed eyes.

Potter nodded.

"The truth is that not only criminals use multiple wands," he said, and Snape was almost certain that Potter had winked, too, though he could not see his face.

Potter's cheek was rewarded with approving laughter from the audience.

"Here you can find," Potter continued, "all the magic that I employed to trace and to subdue this villain and his friend, as you will soon see."

It could not be true. Potter had just offered to make a public display of the magic in Snape's wand, and Snape had to endure it silently, without even the chance to protest. Moody had told the prat to hide the wand and forget where it was, and what had Potter done? He had brought the wand to the trial, and had actually shown it to the Wizengamot! What was more, his confident behaviour suggested that he had already taken a closer look at that wand's history without Snape's permission, an action that every wizard would have considered a gross violation of his privacy.

The imprints of the spells he had cast were already coming out of the wand.

A series of protective spells…

"Excuse me," said Mr Vane. "Did you use anti-Dementors wards as well? I wonder why."

"Dementors are dark creatures," answered Potter after some hesitation. "A stray one turning up in an abandoned place could be dangerous. You know, constant vi-"

"There are _no _stray Dementors!" shrieked a witch from the first row of the audience. "The Ministry has all of them under control!"

"Thank you, Miss Humpridge," said Crouch in a bored tone.

Potter and Snape glanced at exactly the same moment at the toad-faced little witch who had interrupted the trial. She was wearing a ridiculous pink bow on the top of her head and a look of servile admiration in her small eyes as she was gazing at Crouch. The expression appearing on the faces of the two men was exactly the same, too.

Potter continued, and the protective spells were soon followed by many fighting spells; and then came various other spells – the ones that had made the passage in the cave easier, as well as the Disillusionment Charm, the Sharp Senses Charm and the orientation and cave marking magic.

"Where are the Transfiguration spells?" Vane asked abruptly.

"Oh," exclaimed Potter, "… those!"

"Yes, those," Vane replied with annoyance. "Where are they?"

"I cast them with my other wand. Do you want me to show them?"

Potter raised the wand that was really his.

"No," said Vane morosely. "Go on."

Snape had to admit that this was a clever move. No one could tell how many spells Potter had performed in a row when he had produced that mocking Snape-caricature (or maybe Dumbledore, as a Transfiguration expert, would have been able to tell); and he only had to claim that he had not used that wand between the two Transfiguration series, and it would be next to impossible to determine which spells had been cast a few minutes before and which a day earlier. Or then again, Dumbledore might have been able to tell such things, but Vane was not going to ask his opinion.

"This wand is especially suitable for Transfiguration," Potter explained. "I like doing delicate or elegant magic with this, and the crude or menial things with a more ordinary wand."

Snape could almost hear Potter grinning, happy to take the chance to insult him; and he wondered why Potter did not drop dead under his gaze.

Another spell came, but Potter seemed less sure of himself. Of course, he could not know what other spells might come up – he probably had not thought that the demonstration would become so long.

"The problem is," said Vane, perhaps sensing the untold question that many wizards and witches in the courtroom were thinking about, "that all you have proved is that this wand was used in a cave and during a fight. We still don't know _who_ was using it though."

The murmur coming from the audience was that of impatience this time. Even Crouch threw a reprimanding look at his advisor, but Vane was unable to lose gracefully.

"All I want is a spell that links this wand to you," he said. "Go on, please."

Potter waved the wand – and the imprint of a strong rope flew out of its tip. Snape nearly gasped – it was lucky that the imprint did not show what the rope had been transfigured from. No one seemed to find anything strange about the appearance of a rope before a visit to a cave.

But the next moment Snape felt a cold shudder running down his spine. They were very close to the magic of the blood drops, with which he had deceived the Dementors before leaving Azkaban. Naturally, Potter would not know what it was – but someone in the Wizengamot would doubtless recognize the dark magic. There was no way Potter could explain _that_ away.

"The next one, please," said Mr Vane, noticing Potter's reduced enthusiasm.

Potter obeyed, but nothing visible came out of the wand; only some buzzing sound could be heard - the Muffliato spell, one of Snape's own inventions. Potter did not give Vane a chance to ask any questions, but hurried on to the next piece of magic, and immediately he watched, petrified, the phenomenon shooting out of the wand - the faint, almost vapour-like image of a doe.

Equally startled, Snape remembered now: He had cast a Patronus after performing the dark magic, just to see that she was still coming to him…

"That was the Patronus Charm, I believe," said Vane.

Silence.

"Mr Potter?"

"Yes," Potter muttered extremely slowly. "Yes, it was. M – my Patronus."

"What is your Patronus, Mr Potter?"

"A stag," Potter replied, still gaping at the point where the image of the doe had evaporated into the air.

"Could we see this last imprint again?"

Potter repeated the magic, and the doe reappeared.

"This is not a stag," said Crouch. "This is a doe."

"Of course," cried Lily with a strange, artificial laughter. "This was _my_ Patronus!"

"Yours?"

Vane gave Lily a frosty stare, while Potter was glaring at her with flashing eyes - very few people in the room saw the latter. Snape did.

"Yes, mine," Lily answered, and waved her wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver-white doe, the recognizable origin of the imprint that everyone had twice seen, sprang out of the tip of her wand lightly and merrily.

"I wanted to send a message to Mary early in the morning, before their departure," she explained, "and I had misplaced my own wand, so I used my husband's instead. It happens," she added shyly.

Vane's eyes were piercing her and Potter in turn. Snape was certain that Vane had noticed Potter's shock. Vane was smirking.

"The proof is almost perfect, Mr Potter" he said unctuously. "Your Patronus or your wife's – it does not matter. There is only one thing left to do and we can finish this business."

He displayed a broad, rather wolfish grin.

"We must request Mrs Potter's … _childhood friend_ to show us his Patronus, too. If that Patronus is different from the one cast by this wand, I will ask for no more evidence in this matter."

A minute later, Snape was free of the chains. He was standing in front of the chair, his old wand in his hand, the stares of hundreds of people fixed on him. His mind was racing. As soon as he cast a Patronus, it was probably over. At best, Vane would deem the evidence insufficient and would order Potter to go on with the wand analysis, and then the dark magic he had performed in Azkaban would instantly come to light. Those who had tried to shield him would be in trouble. Potter, Lily, Mary, even Moody. He raised his wand and then lowered it again.

"Any problems?" Vane asked. "We are waiting for you to produce a Patronus, Snape."

"Death Eaters," Snape replied hoarsely "are unable to do that. This is common knowledge."

"But you are not a Death Eater, Snape," said Vane with an evil smile. "Or shall we take that as a confession, after all?"

"I _was_ a Death Eater," answered Snape, trying to ignore the whispers behind his back, trying to ignore the humiliation inherent in his own words. "As a Death Eater, I must have lost my Patronus – like others before me. I cannot cast one."

Some members of the Wizengamot were nodding, others were shaking their heads. Crouch was apparently interested again, and Vane seemed to sense victory.

"I'm afraid," he said almost gleefully, "that we must insist on a try at least. Perhaps you will be rewarded with success. If you refuse to attempt it, you might give the impression that you are hiding something. The spell is _Expecto Patronum_."

Mary was staring at the floor in silent distress. Potter had the look of a gravely wounded man, and Lily was glancing around as though she was trying to spot an escape route.

"We must remember that it is not enough to pronounce the spell," Dumbledore said in a patient, teacher-like voice. "A happy thought is necessary as well. A prisoner who has spent weeks in the company of Dementors and who has been until now chained while the charges against him are being discussed cannot be blamed for having difficulty producing a Patronus. It is only fair to give him some preparation time at least."

_Thank you_, Snape's mind responded at once. _I know the solution, thank you for reminding me_. A happy thought, of course! All he had to do was to focus on an _unhappy_ thought – it was going to be easy – and the spell would not work. Having to pretend such a degrading failure in front of so many people was a revolting idea (he was proud of the quality and the precision of his magic) - yet, that was the only way. Vane would be satisfied, since he would be regarded by all as _the Death Eater without a Patronus_, but he could at least save the others. He owed them that much. _He_ could not be spared now either way.

"Conjure a Patronus, and you will be cleared of suspicion. This should be a very happy idea."

Vane could hardly restrain himself any more.

Snape was concentrating. Everyone who had attempted to help him was in danger because of him. He must not reveal his Patronus. His poor Patronus… He was trying to convince others that she was dead… She might want to abandon him for ever if she could – but he had to ask her not to come this time. He had plenty of unhappy thoughts; and the worst of them was the fear that those who were standing by him would have to suffer if he gave himself away. That must not happen.

His shoulders became hunched with the weight of the task, and the silence was beating against his eardrums. _This_ was the minute to do it.

"Expecto … Patronum!"

Nothing would happen. Nothing at all. His friends were _safe_. But the sigh of relief halted on its way as he forgot to breathe for a long, astonished moment, when the shining, four-legged animal bounced out of his wand after all and began walking towards the rows of the Wizengamot, head held high, as though daring each of those wise witches and wizards to look into the eyes that Snape knew so well and to read the truth in their depth at last.


	31. After the Trial

Disclaimer: The characters and the scenery are J. K. Rowling's property.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 31**

_After the Trial_

Many of the audience were standing, trying to get a better view. Some were applauding. Several members of the Wizengamot were whispering to each other, while eyeing either the Patronus or the former Death Eater who had cast it. Lily's lips were slightly parted as her gaze followed the light-being, oblivious to the fact that Potter kept watching her with eyes narrowed. Mary's face reflected various emotions in close succession.

Vane made no effort to properly hide his disappointment, while Crouch was staring strictly at the desk in front of him. Dumbledore rose from his seat.

Snape saw none of the above. His mind was struggling to grasp the idea that his Patronus had answered his reluctant call without betraying him. The light that captured the attention of so many witnesses did not have the familiar shape of the doe or the usual silvery colour. It was a somewhat larger animal, almost dazzling white. On the top of the head of the animal, there was a single long and straight horn.

He was roused from his thoughts by Dumbledore's words.

"As we have seen, Severus Snape did not commit the murder he has been accused of; nor is there evidence that he used any evil means to regain his freedom during his captivity," the old wizard was saying. "He has confessed to us that he was, in the past, lured into joining Lord Voldemort's followers. But he returned to our side and proved his loyalty by saving many lives and ultimately helping us defeat the enemy. The evidence is crystal clear. Despite the bad choice of his teenage years, he did not sink into darkness deep enough to lose his Patronus. What is more, his Patronus appears now in the shape of a _magical _animal with a well-known symbolism. I do not doubt that everyone in this council understands what must have been _the only thing_ that made it possible for Severus Snape to find a way from the Dark Side to a _unicorn_ Patronus."

All charges were dropped, although Snape was officially reprimanded by the council for staying away from his hearing without notice. A very old witch in the Wizengamot, however, congratulated him on his bravery ("… you must be a Gryffindor…") and on his splendid Patronus. And then - it was over. Truly over.

There was quite a commotion as people were hurrying out of the room, and with a sudden excitement, Snape realized he was free at last. He stole a quick glance around, looking for something or someone, but as he started for the door, he was intercepted by an elegantly dressed, curly-haired witch.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr Snape," she said, and held out her hand to shake his. She had long, crimson-coloured nails.

"We must talk. Please, follow me."

Snape did not shake her hand, but he followed her nevertheless to a far-away, empty corner of the courtroom, where she stood so close to him that his way out was practically blocked.

"I'm a journalist for the Daily Prophet," the witch said, placing the tip of a quill against a white page in a notebook. "Will you be so kind as to answer a few questions?"

The words "Daily Prophet" stung like a whip.

"That's the _only_ question I'm answering," he snapped at her. "_No_. Excuse me now."

He pushed her out of his way, and hurried away. A scornful glance behind her jewelled spectacles, the journalist turned on her high heels and walked off in the direction of Mr Vane…

Snape left the room without looking at anyone, but only to become stuck in the crowd in front of the lift. Strangers were staring at him, always strangers, and he hid his gaze behind the curtain of his hair.

"Do you think I could have his autograph?" someone whispered. "He is a hero now, isn't he?"

He buried himself deeper into the crowd of strangers until they reached the Atrium at last and the crowd swept out. Suddenly he could feel a warm, tender hand take his hand firmly, and before he could identify the one to whom the hand belonged, he was being pulled through the crowd and then away from it until he really should have seen his captor, who was, however, invisible. Soon he was outside the building, in a quiet side street, where the invisible hand let go of his hand, and the next moment he received a happy, affectionate hug from a fully visible Lily.

"Congratulations! Well done! Oh, Severus, I'm so happy for you!" she shouted again and again, bouncing like a young, playful doe, enticing a rare little smile from his lips.

"Let's hurry, let's go home all together now! We must celebrate this!"

Snape was puzzled.

"Home?"

"Oh, I mean …," Lily cast a quick look at Potter, who was standing dourly behind her back, "we are still in Sirius's house … ours is in ruins. And, well, your things are still in your room there, waiting for you as you left them, except that the room has been, of course, cleaned since then and your clothes have been washed and-"

"You needn't have taken the trouble -" said Snape, embarrassed, but Lily laughed.

"Do _you_ call _that_ trouble, Severus? Anyway, Sirius and Remus will be glad, and I'm sure they can't wait to hear what happened!"

Snape doubted that he would enjoy a conversation about the trial. Nor did he wish to tell any stories about Azkaban. If Lupin and Black wanted to know what Azkaban was like, they would have to go and find out for themselves. He somehow did not think Black and Lupin could be as enthusiastic as Lily was if he ever attempted to refer to Black's house as "home". As for Potter, a mere glance at him made it obvious that _between them_, not much had changed.

_He did not do it for me_, Snape thought with perfect conviction. _He did it for Lily… to impress her, to please her, to show off …_ He was no more indebted to James Potter than Potter was to him. All things considered, that was good news.

"I … used to have a home at Hogwarts," he said hesitantly. "I'd better go and see if the wards still let me enter."

"By the way," Potter put in, "Dumbledore sent you a message. He had to leave immediately after the trial, but he expects to see you in his office today."

"I must go there then," Snape said to Lily, trying to look sorry. "The last time I checked, Dumbledore was my boss. I shouldn't make him wait."

"All right then," Lily answered kindly. "I'll let you take a rest. But don't think that you can get rid of a friend so easily."

"Let's go," said Potter quickly. "Harry is waiting for us."

He reached into his pocket, and gave Snape a long, narrow object wrapped into a piece of parchment. It was Snape's wand, the one that Potter had taken such liberties with. Snape's fingers locked around it, and he muttered something. If Potter thought that Snape was expressing his sulky thanks, he could not have been more wrong. He was getting ready to Disapparate when he felt something crash into his glasses _from the __inside_. He took off the glasses just in time - his rapidly growing eyelashes would have knocked them off in another second.

Incensed, Potter let out a growl. Not only his eyelashes but his eyebrows, too, had begun to grow at an aggressive pace. Lily was undecided between crying and laughing.

"Will you two ever stop this?" she asked resignedly.

"I merely wanted to let you know," said Snape pointedly, as an already rather funny-looking Potter was furiously trying to find his own wand, "that this wand is _quite suitable_ for Transfiguration as well."

With this, he took the jinx off Potter; and Potter grabbed his wand at last. Their eyes locked and Snape was about to shout an Expelliarmus, but before either of them could utter a spell, Lily grabbed Potter's arm, and they both Disapparated. This was not a nice way to say goodbye, and though Snape knew that Potter did not like being forced to leave without fighting back, this knowledge gave him no real pleasure.

After all, no matter how furious Potter was, Potter had Lily to comfort him, while _he_ was quite obviously standing all alone in a nearly deserted side street. Potter had got off lightly, too - the joke with _his_ face had been seen by Lily and Snape only. Snape's conscience was not troubled by Potter at all. But perhaps he had offended Lily – and _that _was hardly worth the retort.

Snape felt tempted to cast a Patronus again, just out of curiosity, but the broader neighbourhood was full of Muggles, and he'd better not be caught breaking the Statute of Secrecy for a while. He looked around, watching out for someone or something, but in vain.

He hesitated again. Of course, he did not have to hurry to Hogwarts on Dumbledore's account. The Headmaster, who had left so urgently, must have had something to do and was not likely to miss him yet. He would surely have time to see to a few other duties if he had any.

He had met Lily and Potter. He had not exactly thanked them for their help, but - for different reasons - probably neither of them had expected him to. There was, however, Moody, who did not owe him anything and had still been kind to him. But Moody would never come to him fishing for gratitude. No, if _Snape _wanted to say anything to Moody, _he_ would have to seek him out – but not in the auror's Ministry office. Snape almost smirked. It was a safe assumption that Moody wished to forget that day, the sooner the better.

So there was no reason to linger because of Moody. He walked to the main entrance of the Ministry with a vague guilty feeling, which a child could feel, knowing already, from the attitude of the grown-ups, that he had done something wrong, but not yet sure what it was. He turned around when he heard the tapping of high-heeled shoes behind his back. It was the journalist of the Daily Prophet coming towards him in a hurry. He suppressed a groan - and Disapparated.

In his private quarters at Hogwarts, he found everything in order. He tried to rest - but he was unable to get rid of the memories of the day, which were anything but relaxing. Finally, he could not delay the visit to Dumbledore any more.

When he entered the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore put down the copy of _Transfiguration Today_ that he was reading, opened a drawer, and placed a small object on his desk in front of Snape. It was the Blue Stone.

"It came," said Dumbledore "with a most peculiar letter."

"I thought your owls might be watched," Snape replied.

He did not touch the Stone.

"They might have been" Dumbledore agreed," if the Dementors had been aware of your disappearance. But back to your cryptic message... I understood it perfectly - or at least I think so. Miss McDonald's words confirmed my suspicions; but I did not have time to inquire about any details that she did not tell me on her own. Contrary to the words of the aforementioned letter, I do have a feeling that she had a part to play in the _prank_."

"She alone kept me alive in Azkaban," Snape answered. "She also made it possible for me to go after Mulciber and Avery."

"I suppose," Dumbledore said, "you were aware of the risk that both of you were taking."

The blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses were piercing him.

"I did not want to be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of my life," said Snape after a moment's silence.

He told Dumbledore about Vane's visit, and the old man was listening with great interest.

"I did not know that they had _this_ sort of _evidence_ in their possession," he murmured. "No one informed me."

"Mary tried to find you," Snape explained. "I did not ask her to take any further risks for me, but I do not deny that I allowed her to do it," he admitted, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "I intended to return to Azkaban before the Dementors discovered my absence. Something … went wrong and I could not enter. Then we had to flee."

"Even with that final failure," muttered Dumbledore, "going in and out of Azkaban was a remarkable achievement. I wonder how you did it."

"I don't know exactly," said Snape, "and what I know I must not tell. I made a promise."

Dumbledore cast a sharp look at Snape, but gave no verbal response, and Snape wished he knew what the Headmaster was thinking. Did Dumbledore begin to doubt his loyalty now that he had a reason to be loyal to someone else, too? Would Dumbledore rather want Snape to remain the wizard who had had no one but Dumbledore, the wizard who had kept no secrets from the Headmaster of Hogwarts? Would he lose Dumbledore's trust because he had gained the independent trust of another human being? Would Dumbledore force him to _choose_?

"I will not lie to you," he added, when he could not bear the silence any longer. "But this secret is not mine to share. All I can tell you is how _I_ attempted to fool the Dementors."

"I'll take you up on this offer later," said Dumbledore at long last, "but first I want to let you know that I did not leave you alone without a reason. Mary stood by you because she had no concern that was more important than your well-being. I had. It was the fate of hundreds and hundreds of people, wizards and Muggles alike. I, too, discovered a secret, which is, for the time being, mine to share."

With a wand movement, Dumbledore closed the office window.

"You will be the first one to hear it from me, Severus. All I ask in return is that you keep it. I'd like to reserve the right to decide who else may know about it."

Snape nodded.

"I have already told you my opinion that, though he lost his power, Lord Voldemort is still alive somewhere. Therefore it is essential to trace him while we can. We must keep an eye on him and on any allies he has left. I am not alone on this quest, but my immediate participation can speed up the process considerably. We are racing time. "

Dumbledore paused, and Snape knew that the most important part was just about to come.

"While you were suffering patiently - or not so patiently - in Azkaban, I received intelligence that became my first real hope to find Voldemort. I had to leave Britain and examine the place where the information led me. It was a time-consuming mission, but worth the effort. More research is needed yet, but I have good reason to suppose that Lord Voldemort is hiding in a forest in Albania. If my conclusions are correct, he is alone and weak - but not completely powerless. Though unable to use a wand or any other magical or non-magical objects, he still has the power of the mind; and in his case, this means that he has retained a significant part of his magical power."

"So for example," Snape asked gravely, "he could still possess someone?"

"Someone or something," Dumbledore answered. "We must be vigilant."

Snape was reminded of Moody, and his gaze fell on the Blue Stone on the desk. Would such an object - provided it worked - be of any use if a wizard was trying to keep an eye on the ghost of the Dark Lord?"

"That was the reason," said Dumbledore, "why I was away. Needless to say, I expected to be informed of any progress in your case. However, it was only yesterday that I was officially notified of the date of your trial. The owl would have reached me too late if I had remained in Albania; but luckily, I returned just in time to receive the Ministry's letter here."

Dumbledore paused again.

"I had no legal means to enable you to contact me," he said. "I'm sorry about that. But I did hope to receive some news from or about you via Lily."

"Lily?"

"She wanted to visit you, and I asked her to contact me after talking to you. Unfortunately, it took the Ministry an unusually long time to grant her the permission to enter Azkaban. It is never a speedy process, and since she is neither your legal representative, nor a family member, someone - apparently - used these simple facts to hinder the visit."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Had I known about _Mary's_ approach to the same problem ... Never mind. Lily did alert me in the end, soon after another friend of yours had caused me to return from Albania without delay."

"Who was that?" Snape asked with surprise.

"A very enthusiastic and very desperate house elf," replied Dumbledore.

"Zippy ..." Snape sighed, and for the first time since the end of the trial, he was experiencing a moment of pure joy. "Where is he?"

"In good hands," said Dumbledore." According to Madam Pomfrey, he will recover from the serious self-inflicted injuries he suffered last night."

"He punished himself," muttered Snape, "but why?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore answered, "I only know a part of the story. Zippy came to me yesterday afternoon, when I was still in Albania, and informed me that he - or maybe his master - needed urgent help to guard certain bad wizards. He seemed very frightened and nervous, therefore it was not always easy to understand him, but I gathered from his words that he had had some disagreement with one of the wizards he had to guard, and in his fury, he had done something that he was unable to undo, and he was alternatively fearing the possibility that this wizard could die and that the other wizard might escape, but he knew that his master wanted my help. By this time, I had become rather curious. Still, it was only when he finally told me his master's name that I understood how indispensable my presence was."

"But … how did he find you?"

"Zippy travels fast and Zippy can finds anyone," said Dumbledore. "I think these were his exact words."

"But Mulciber and Avery still escaped from him," said Snape.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"They left the island with me," he said. "Don't tell me that you had no idea what your house-elf was doing. I thought he sought me out on _your_ orders."

Snape gaped at Dumbledore. Then he buried his face into his hands for a second, and then stared at the floor.

"I thought ... I thought all our efforts had been in vain," he muttered. "I had left the captives in Zippy's care, but I never sent him to you. He must have overheard my conversation with Mary."

Dumbledore was shaking his head.

"I like that elf... Apparently, Mulciber attempted to escape, but Zippy stopped him. Avery, however, mentioned you or perhaps your mother with disrespect; and Zippy could not bear it... As a result, he somehow stuck Avery's fist into his mouth in his anger; and the condition appeared to be irreversible. I confess, even I was able to do only so much, but Avery is better now - except that he refuses to communicate with anyone."

"As I was interrogating Mulciber," Dumbledore went on, "I received the Ministry's letter informing me that your trial was going to be today. Zippy could not tell me where you were, but I got a message from Lily urging me to go to your prison cell at once. While Zippy resumed guarding the Death Eaters, I hurried to the Ministry, and on the grounds of your upcoming trial, I asked for instant permission to visit you, which they graciously granted me. In Azkaban, I met Lily and James, who, despite the already late hour, were still there, waiting for me. It seemed the Dementors had not yet noticed anything. Since James had accompanied Lily to Azkaban without the Dementors' knowledge - between you and me, I am beginning to doubt the legendary security of this prison - he agreed to replace you until your return."

"Oh, I'm sure he stayed there with pleasure," Dumbledore added as he caught Snape's glance. "He loves dangerous adventures. Lily and I left Azkaban together. I had to make sure she was safe before I continued looking for you. I wanted to find you before the Dementors or the aurors started their own hunt. From Mulciber, I knew that Mary was your companion, therefore I went to her house first, but it was empty."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"In the end, I returned to the island, where I immediately found that the wards had registered your arrival but not your departure. It was, however, late at night, and I thought between the fight of the previous day and the trial of the next day, you needed your rest; so I did not disturb you. I had other things to do anyway."

Silently, Snape wondered if Dumbledore was pulling his leg. He could imagine Dumbledore closing down the exit for him and consciously letting him stew in his own juice until the morning, but he could also imagine that Dumbledore suspected more than what he said and that was the real reason why he had tactfully stayed away from their hiding place.

"As a rule," continued Dumbledore, "there are no night visits in St. Mungo's, but I got in. I woke Alastor, and asked him to take up work the next morning. I don't know how he managed to do it, but the next morning he was again the auror officially in charge of you and it was his job to pick you up in Azkaban and take you to the Ministry. I returned to Hogwarts, where Zippy by that time had hurt himself so much that I instantly sent him to Madam Pomfrey. I resumed the conversation with Mulciber. In the morning, I received Alastor's message informing me that he was on his way with you to your destination. Later, I got your letter, and Mary arrived, too. She was very distressed, but she insisted on going to the trial as a witness."

"You would probably like to know why I was late for the trial. Naturally, I realized the importance of Mulciber's confession, but I also understood its dangers: He could easily betray the secret that so many of us were trying to hide – I am referring to your day off, of course. I thought it safer to keep him away from your trial. In theory, we would not have needed his confession if we had had the wand with which he had committed the murder. Mulciber had been disarmed in the battle, and I was almost sure that his old wand was in the possession of the Ministry. I tried to obtain the wand as evidence to be presented at the trial. At first I was refused on the grounds that the request had to be handed in three days prior to the day that the item was needed, and I was obliged to engage in a long legal argument."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again.

"A lot of people are of the opinion that our good old Barty will be the next Minister of Magic, therefore it is useful to help him in matters which are important to him. When I proved my right to receive the evidence, they started to look for the wand, and - surprise! - they did not find it. I realized that they were trying to extend the search long enough for the trial to end, so I decided to present Mulciber's confession after all - hoping for the best, while taking the unavoidable risk. By the way, they did find the wand in the end. I received it right after the trial."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, but he kept scrutinizing Snape.

"You know, Severus, Barty came to me after the trial. He asked me why a teenager like you had become a Death Eater in the first place."

The blue eyes kept piercing him, and Snape felt obliged to answer.

"My father never valued me," he said slowly. "I always knew that I would have to do something extraordinary if I wanted any sort of appreciation from anyone. The Dark Arts … made me feel stronger."

"I told Barty you had wanted love and acceptance, but got lost in the dark without proper guidance. He also wanted to know how you were able to turn back from that road."

Snape stared into the distance. The day he was thinking about seemed very far away already.

"There came a moment," he said finally, "when my old goals lost their meaning. Some things are more important than _being_ _valued_ ... or loved."

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Then Dumbledore gestured towards the Blue Stone.

"This is yours. Don't forget it."

"I don't need it," Snape replied. "The last time I wanted to use it, it did not work for me. It worked for Moody though. He should have it."

"Why don't you give it to him then?"

Snape's lips curled up a little.

"He may not accept a present from me."

Dumbledore picked up the Stone and examined it.

"I have an idea," he said. "With your permission, I will have this piece of stone turned into an artificial eye. I know someone who can do it… Alastor could use a magical eye instead of the one he lost, don't you think so?"

Snape agreed and Dumbledore smiled.

"Before you leave," he said, "don't forget to sign this."

He indicated a piece of parchment on his desk. Snape had not paid any attention to it before, but now he drew it closer and read it. It was his new contract, his appointment as Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, complete with the stamp of the Ministry and the signature of Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

* * *

In the Hospital Wing, only one bed was occupied, but even that was difficult to notice, the occupant was so small and so perfectly covered by his blanket.

"Zippy," said Snape, standing next to the bed.

The blanket flew off the bandaged head of the little elf, who almost jumped to his feet.

"Master is back!" he squeaked joyfully.

"Calm down," said Snape. "Madam Pomfrey will kill me if you have a relapse. How did you get injured?"

"Zippy was disobedient," the elf explained, much calmer now. "Master is calling Zippy and Zippy is not going!"

"That's right," answered Snape. "I thought you were dead or at least gone back to Avery. I thought they both escaped."

"Isn't Master reading Zippy's note?" Zippy asked, astonished.

"Did you leave a _note_?"

"Of course! Zippy is explaining everything and leaving the parchment on the ship!"

"I did not see a note," Snape said. "How could I have known that there was one?"

"Zippy was sure Master would thinks of a note! How else could Zippy lets Master know where bad wizards were? But Zippy is hiding the note and making it invisible, because Zippy is not wanting anyone to find it by accident. Only Master could have found it."

"Logical enough," Snape muttered. "But why did you stay away when I called you?"

"Master must remembers!" Zippy cried. "Master is forbidding Zippy to look for him until Master is back on the main island! Zippy is obeying Master's first order, but Zippy is disobeying Master's second order!"

Snape's jaw dropped for a moment. He would have to be careful with his instructions next time.

"In future, you must not punish yourself," he said, "when you receive controversial orders."

Zippy was blinking at him with slight bewilderment.

"Zippy _must not_ punish himself?" he repeated gingerly.

"That's what I have just said," Snape answered. "It is utterly stupid, and _my_ house-elf should not do anything stupid. It's a good thing you have moved into a _school_."

"Master is alone?" Zippy asked, glancing around.

"How many more visitors do you want?" Snape snapped, feeling hurt. _Who else was his house-elf expecting?_

"Master wasn't alone _then_," Zippy whispered conspiratorially. "Where did _she_ go?"

"Don't know," came the curt reply. "I had no chance to ask."

"Zippy can finds –"

"The patient must rest," said Madam Pomfrey sternly behind Snape's back.

She was approaching Zippy with a tiny goblet in her hand.

"But Master is back -" Zippy protested.

Snape cut him short.

"Your master wants you to obey Madam Pomfrey while you are ill. Drink your potion and rest."

Zippy swallowed the drink with a grimace. The potion was bitter.

"A drop of honey would not spoil its healing power," Snape murmured to himself rather than to the others.

"As a matter of fact," Madam Pomfrey said," that was the last of this potion. Our supplies are running out. It's time someone did something about it."

"Give me the list," said Snape. "I'll bring them as soon as I can."

* * *

James Potter was officially released from St Mungo's at last. He flung the piece of parchment with the hospital's stamp on it on the kitchen table.

"Cheer up, dear," Lily whispered. "I've got something to tell you."

"Before you say anything else," James snapped irritably," you owe me an explanation."

"I don't know what you mean," Lily replied coldly.

"Right," he fumed, standing opposite her with his arms folded. "Just answer my question then… How and when did _your_ Patronus get into _Snape's _wand?"

**Author's Note: The idea of a unicorn Patronus _if_ for any reason Snape's Patronus is not a doe comes from the canon story. I see a parallel between the death of the unicorn in the first book (dying in a pool of its own blood, killed by Voldemort because Voldemort hoped to gain more power from the unicorn's blood, just before Harry's encounter with Voldemort) and Snape's death in the last book (dying in a pool of his own blood, killed by Voldemort because Voldemort hoped to gain more power by killing him, just before Harry's encounter with Voldemort). In my eyes, that makes a strong connection between Snape and the unicorn, especially when the question whether he is guilty or innocent is so important in the plot, and the unicorn is a symbol of innocence. The unicorn is also associated with potions and healing powers, and it can only be tamed by a girl. **


	32. Tempus Est Iocundum

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 32**

_Tempus Est Iocundum_

"_Oh, oh, oh,_

_totus floreo,_

_iam amore virginali_

_totus ardeo,_

_novus, novus amor est,  
quo pereo."_

(Carmina Burana)

Her skin was soft and fragrant. Her body was responding to his exploring touch, to his caresses and kisses. She loved him. Of all the men in the world, she wanted _him_… The pace of his breathing quickened. He longed to be as close to her as possible. He could feel a lava stream running in his veins, as he was diving deeper and deeper into a warm sea of love, bewitching his mind and ensnaring his senses …

Snape woke up suddenly. Half-consciously, he felt around in the semidarkness, but the dream escaped his grasp. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was in his bed in his Hogwarts bedroom, alone, as before. Moreover, he had good reason to count himself lucky that it was so. Still, the realization brought him bitter disappointment. Returning to his ordinary life, which he had so wanted to do for weeks, did not seem to satisfy him any more…

In the morning, he went to the Hospital Wing again and gave Madam Pomfrey a collection of newly brewed potions. Brewing had been refreshing. The steam of the various potions had temporarily banished most other thoughts and all memories from the front of his mind. He also visited Zippy, who greeted him with great joy. After that, he compiled a list of the potion ingredients that he had to order from Diagon Alley and sent the order to the Apothecary's by owl post.

He had just returned to his room from the Owlery, when he noticed the green light in the fireplace.

"Severus," said a voice among the flames.

He knelt down by the fire.

"Lily?"

"I've got something to tell you. May I come through?"

"Of course."

The permission magically opened up the otherwise blocked way, and Lily stepped out of the flames before Snape had time to stand up.

"Sorry," she said and carefully wiped the ash off his face with her hand. "Good morning."

Snape rose.

"Take a seat," he muttered, thinking of the way they had parted.

He remained standing. Lily's gaze surveyed the room with interest.

"So this is your home now," she said.

Snape knew there was not much in his room that Lily was likely to find attractive, except perhaps his books. Fortunately, Lily's manner suggested that she bore him no grudge for the jinx of the previous day; and, in return for this knowledge, he was ready to accept some aesthetic criticism regarding his room. But she quickly came to the point.

"Are you still very angry with James?" she asked, her voice understanding rather than reprimanding.

_What a question,_ thought Snape. 'Angry' had long ceased to be the word accurately describing his feelings about Potter.

"He could not resist that joke," she added apologetically, "but his primary intention was to help you."

"I know," said Snape. "He could have landed himself in Azkaban, in a cell next to mine. Several of us could have ended up there. You, Mary and Moody... and we all would have looked to Dumbledore to get us out alone."

Lily giggled.

"You saved the day again," she said in a tone that was flattering and mocking at the same time. "Or your Patronus did - with that perfectly timed change."

Snape looked away.

"You don't mind..." he began, but did not finish the sentence.

"How could I?" said Lily earnestly after a brief silence. "And now James knows, too."

"What?"

"That the Patronus that rescued him was yours. We had a long talk last night. He understands it now."

"I see," said Snape with little enthusiasm.

"And now that you are free and James has left the hospital, and we are all safe, it is time to celebrate all the good things we have. We are going to have a party in your honour, Severus. Tonight. Padfoot's house."

"This must have been your idea," he said.

"Actually," she said, "it would have been my idea if Padfoot had not come up with it earlier. Remus and James quite agree, too."

"Who else will be there?" Snape asked abruptly, surprising even himself with the question.

"Well," Lily replied hesitantly, "there is not much time until tonight so we thought it would be a cosy little party, just for those of us who had gone through these recent events together. Moody rarely goes to parties - you know him."

"Yes," said Snape quickly.

"But if you want to bring anyone -"

"I can't invite people to Black's house," Snape answered. "I just thought... It does not matter."

"This is going to be _your_ party, Severus," said Lily. "What did you think?"

"I thought ... Mary was with us in a lot of trouble, too. She certainly helped _me_. Since she is your friend, I thought you'd want to invite her, too."

"I know," said Lily. "We have not invited her because, well... she and Sirius met in St. Mungo's the other day, and the way they parted may not make an invitation to Padfoot's house an attractive idea for her. But I realize she was with you when you captured Mulciber... Do you know how curious we all are to find out how you escaped from Azkaban and how you caught the Death Eaters?"

"That's a long story," said Snape warily. "I owe Mary a lot. She ... felt indebted to me because I had rescued her from the fire in the forest. She offered me help in return."

Lily cast a long, searching look at Snape.

"I did not mean to say she was not welcome. We simply did not think she would accept an invitation from Sirius; but for your sake, she may be willing to come. I think I can say this for Padfoot, too: It would be great if you brought her along."

Once again, Snape felt he had stepped into his own trap. Lily seemed to be proposing that _he_ should invite Mary, and his real problem was not whether this would violate Black's rights as host. After all, Mary might be enjoying a trouble-free day without him now. She must have had more than enough of adventures, perhaps more than enough of everything that had resulted from their acquaintance.

"She disappeared after the trial," he said at last. "I could not see her anywhere."

"Did you expect to see her?"

"No," Snape replied, shrugging. "Yes. I mean we might have said goodbye politely, for example."

Lily smiled.

"Perhaps she did not want to say goodbye to you. If you miss her, an invitation can't hurt."

Snape was silent, and the green eyes opened wide.

"Do you miss her?"

Lily's voice was suddenly quiet, gentle and tactful. Snape had never thought he would ever have such a conversation with her.

"I knew all the time," he answered, "that I should not let her sacrifice herself for me. But her presence meant I was not alone. She saved me from despair. It was too good to last."

"Why could it not last?"

"Because …"

He shook his head. It was difficult. Still, Lily was undoubtedly his best friend.

"All the time she was giving me ... all kinds of things, from food to a blanket, to support and kindness and … more. In the meantime, there were Dementors and Death Eaters and fight and curses and fear. She was nearly raped by Mulciber. She suffered those horrors because of me, while she alone gave all the good things."

"I don't know," said Lily softly, "I was not there after all, but … she did not stay with you through and through without a reason."

"I'm not complaining," he replied. "She did her best to comfort me …and yet … whatever her reason was, it did not prevent her from leaving without a word in the end."

He turned away, unable to confide more. He could not share his memories of Mary in the forest or his growing suspicion that Mary could already be regretting what had taken place between them. He certainly had not been a particularly cheerful companion.

She must have had a reason, yes, but what reason? He had almost believed someone actually _needed him_ at last; but Mary's disappearance, just when he had ceased to be a pitiable, friendless outcast, suggested otherwise. He obviously did not deserve a word of explanation from her. Could it be that she had done everything _only_ because he had been so desperately in need of a friend and she had wanted to repay a debt … too generously perhaps? That thought was outright torment, and the more it tormented him, the more possible it seemed.

Lily rose and stepped to him; and with a touch of her hand, she forced him to turn back towards her.

"Severus… You are still under the influence of the Dementors. No wonder. They are cruel, harmful creatures. I don't know what they did to you, but what you see is merely a distorted image of the truth, I'm sure. Do not give in to dark thoughts."

"I'm fine," Snape mumbled.

"I hope so," said Lily kindly, "because I love you like a brother, and I look forward to seeing you this evening. Don't be late."

The main reason that took him to Black's house in the evening was that he did not want to offend Lily. When he arrived, the doors opened by themselves, and he walked as far as the living room without seeing or hearing anyone. But then:

"Bravo!" shouted a deep voice as he entered, and he heard several voices cheering and the sound of a champagne bottle opening loudly, and then Black was shaking his hand warmly, and Lupin, too, and then Potter stepped to him in a wary manner, and Snape did not refuse the handshake he was offering. Lily kissed him on the cheek.

Little Harry Potter was holding onto his mother's robes, gazing up at Snape. In the middle of the living room, a tastefully laid table stood, replete with food and drinks.

"Champagne!" shouted Black.

When he offered a goblet to Lily, she hesitated.

"Just a drop to Severus's health," she said.

"Then Prongs must drink the rest for you," Black laughed. "I'm sure he can drink for two... or for three, to be precise."

Lily's cheeks turned a little pink. Her eyes shone. Potter smirked proudly.

Snape knew he did not get the joke, but just as Black patted him on the shoulder, he understood.

"If you are not careful, Snape, she'll make you a godfather," Black boomed.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Lily asked sharply.

"As though it had been difficult," Black replied, winking.

"Congratulations," Snape muttered, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Thanks," said Lily, stealing a peek at Potter.

"Since Padfoot can't hold his tongue," Potter began, taking the hint from his wife, "I may as well tell you now that last night we agreed to ask you to be the godfather of our second child. I reckon you have less than eight months to make up your mind."

Lily was beaming at Snape, who was standing struck for several moments. Instinct told him to flee, but he knew there was no way out. It would have been easier never to see any of the Potter gang again had it not been for Dumbledore's prediction that the Dark Lord would come back one day. When that happened, the world would become a very dangerous place for anyone with the name Potter, and Lily would need him again. Was that the reason why she wanted him to be her child's godfather? Perhaps. But Snape's choice had been made a long time ago, and he was not going to change it.

He noticed that Potter was enjoying the sight of his shocked face. That brought him back to his senses.

"You can count on me – as always," he said, more to Lily than to Potter. "You don't have to wait months to know that."

"Our guest of honour," said Black, raising his goblet. "May he have as many godchildren as there are stars in the sky – welcome back among us, Snape!"

He drained his goblet. The others followed his example. Black kept gabbing.

"As Godfather Number Two, you can always come to me if you need tips. Looking after Harry, I could give Lily a good run for her money!"

"Really?" Lily inquired, smiling.

"Just ask my advice if you can't put Harry to sleep," Black answered cheerfully.

Lupin laughed out aloud.

"Sirius has an unbeatable method," he said. "Yesterday afternoon, little Harry was standing in his cot, refusing to sleep. Sirius took him out of the cot, and sat on the motorbike with him."

Lily seemed horrified.

"I flew in circles around the house with him," Black explained. "He loved it. He dozed off within ten minutes."

"And he was sleeping," Lupin continued, "until Sirius put him back into the cot. Then he woke up crying, demanding another ride on the bike. Guess what Sirius did."

"After a few more circles, he fell asleep again," said Black. "I brought him back to the house. Crying again. More circles. This time," – Black produced a triumphant grin – "he slept for three hours!"

He grabbed the Potter kid and lifted him up high.

"What a present you will get from me, Harry!" he shouted. "Just wait until your birthday…"

Harry Potter was shrieking with delight. Lupin wiped his eyes.

"Now you know what you must do if Harry can't sleep," he said.

"Summon Padfoot," said Potter.

"Since You-Know-Who is gone at last," Lily suggested, "perhaps we could think of hiring a professional nanny."

Harry Potter wanted a piece of cheese from the table, and that was understood to be the signal for everyone to start the feast. Snape was not very hungry though, thanks to his recent return to the rich Hogwarts diet. Therefore he was the first one to hear the doorbell ringing. Soon, however, Lily noticed it, too.

"I'll get the door," she said with a meaningful glance at Snape.

Snape stared after her with a funny feeling. Lily returned, escorting Mary into the room. Mary was very pretty, and she was carrying a paper box in her hands. She greeted everyone at large, but her gaze lingered on Snape.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier," she said. "But I've brought you something."

She put down the box and removed the wrapping. It was a chocolate cake – dark and wholesome; bitter rather than sweet; and yet delicious. Its only ornament was the white marzipan figure of a unicorn standing in the middle.

The others applauded, and Snape could feel some familiar warmth below his neck. Not much later, Lily cut the cake. Little Harry ate a piece, and then it was time for him to go to bed. Lily took him away, and Potter followed. Mary, Snape, Black and Lupin remained seated around the table. Black filled the goblets with wine.

"Prongs looks more and more like a family man," he grumbled. "We can be glad if they return to the party at all."

"They must," said Lupin. "Severus is going to fill us in on what happened in and out of Azkaban."

Snape caught Mary's glance.

"So how is James now?" she asked. "Has he recovered completely?"

"More or less," answered Lupin. "But it's best not to inquire after his health. It may make him unreasonably tense."

"Why, what's the problem?" Snape asked.

"He must take some potion and go back for regular checkups," Black growled. "Because of the occasional dizziness."

"But that's not too bad," Mary said. "I mean – it could have been much worse after the Cruciatus Curse."

"James would not mind the dizziness," said Lupin, "except –"

"Except?"

"Except that he is not allowed to fly a broomstick any more," Lupin explained. "_That_ made him awfully upset. Don't bring up this subject when he is here."

"I'm sorry," said Mary.

Snape was fiddling with his empty goblet.

"Some more wine?" Black asked, looking around.

Mary shook her head.

"I'd rather have a pumpkin juice."

Black poured some juice for her, and cleared his throat.

"Er … no hard feelings, I hope?" he asked her. "I believed you were unattached."

Mary turned crimson, and sought refuge behind her goblet.

Snape was intently eyeing Black, who appeared to be unusually confused. An awkward silence ensued, and none of them seemed to be able to break it. The Potters' return saved them.

"We want to hear the story now," said Lily in a commanding tone.

Snape was not the best narrator, but he was lucky to have Mary by his side. Together they told the events that could be told – Snape speaking in short, often waspish sentences, Mary adding her own observations. The others noticed that some details remained obscure, but did not inquire after them. The fight with Mulciber and Avery attracted the most interest.

"You have acquired a smart house-elf," Black said. "The one that my parents have is complete nuts."

"Zippy will be an educated house-elf," said Snape proudly. "I don't need an ignorant little thing that keeps making mistakes and punishing himself for it until he drives me crazy."

Lily chortled.

"You already speak like a teacher, Severus! Professor Snape! It sounds good."

Silently, Snape agreed. It did sound good.

"So who will be your students?" Potter asked. "Let me see … the Turner twins, who almost blew up Slughorn's classroom when they were tiny first-year students, will be … fifth year now? And I remember Jessica Wood; she was on the Quidditch team when we were in our last year."

"Andy Brown, who always followed my brother like a dog," continued Black. "A seventh-year now, I reckon. Bill, the Terrible…"

"Seventh-year students don't have to take Potions."

"I won't accept anyone for NEWT level," said Snape quickly "unless they get an O at their OWL exam."

Black and Potter went on gloating about Snape's future students gleefully, and the warning hit home. His older students would be the ones who had seen him as a student and later as Slughorn's assistant. He would have to make it absolutely clear that it did not mean he could be trifled with.

"I think it's wonderful," Lily put in, interrupting the enumeration, "that there will be a friend at Hogwarts when Harry goes there. Severus will keep an eye on him for me."

Snape gave no reply. Who could tell where he would be ten long years later, when Harry Potter went to Hogwarts for the first time?

"What kind of a mother are you?" Potter turned to Lily in mock indignation. "Setting a _teacher _on your own child? Although," he added with his usual arrogant smirk, "if Harry is like his father, he will find a way to fool _any_ professor."

"If Harry is like his father," said Lupin, "he will steal your Invisibility Cloak and take it to Hogwarts secretly in his third year."

Everyone laughed, even Potter.

"Is that what _you_ did?" Mary asked.

"A rule-breaker by birth," said Snape. "Didn't you know?"

"You should talk," Potter retorted, grinning.

A few hours later, Mary got ready to leave, and Snape knew it was time for him to go as well. Everyone else was – at home. So they left together, and walked together to a side street that seemed to be an ideal Disapparition site.

"I'll see you home," said Snape. "If you want me to."

Mary agreed, and they soon landed outside the ruins of a medieval castle, the usual Apparition station of the mostly Muggle town where Mary lived.

"It's a nice walk from here," said Mary. "Across the Old Town."

"Fine," said Snape.

It was quite dark, and they walked downhill at a slow pace, Mary humming a tune. Snape gathered enough courage to ask a question.

"What did Black mean when he said," - he paused – "when he said _no hard feelings_?"

"Remember when I told you his girlfriend had broken up with him? We met in St. Mungo's… and he thought he could quickly find a new one."

"You?"

Mary shrugged.

"Are you surprised?"

"No," he replied morosely.

They left behind the ruins of the castle, and were now walking in a narrow street, among the small houses of the Old Town.

Their footsteps were echoing on the cobblestones. Snape was thinking of the other thing that Black had mentioned – that he had _though_t Mary was unattached.

"After the verdict," Mary said, "a former colleague of my parents came to me. He brought me some important news."

"About your parents?"

"About my parents."

"Good news?"

"Very good."

"I'm glad," said Snape, and he really _was_ thankful for the information.

The mystery of Mary's abrupt disappearance had been solved at last.

"That's why I did not have time to congratulate you," Mary continued. "But I saw your friends were waiting for you anyway."

_His friends_!

"And I'd rather not force my company on anyone."

"Don't you count yourself among my friends?" Snape asked.

"Not really."

Her answer was so inconsistent with her former behaviour, that Snape was puzzled again. Had he offended her? He stopped suddenly and turned towards her so she was forced to stop as well, and would have lost her balance if Snape had not caught her wrists. They were standing at the bottom of a narrow, ascending street, in which stairs were leading upwards under ivy-covered walls.

"Why not?"

Their eyes locked.

"A real friend would be selflessly happy about anything that made you happy. I am … too selfish for that."

"You? Selfish?"

Snape could not believe his ears.

"I _am_ glad that you are free and safe at last," she replied. "I really am. But –"

"But?"

"For a few hours in the forest … there was no one but you and me. After the trial, I realized that I was not too happy to share you with others. That's pretty selfish, isn't it?"

Even in the dim light, Snape could see her blush just as he could feel his own cheeks grow hot; and as the colour rose in her face, so rose in him the stunning certainty. He drew closer to her. For a long time, they stood at the bottom of the medieval street, wordlessly and mutually reassuring each other, banishing the doubt that had haunted them both. Then they walked up the stairs together, approaching Mary's home.

"At the trial," she asked, "that unicorn thing … did you do it intentionally or did it just … happen?"

"Did I what? Oh … no. I am not so powerful."

"The Unicorn Patronus suits you. I'm very pleased that it is not a snake," she added with a chuckle.

"A snake?" Snape hissed indignantly. "Why would my Patronus be a snake?"

"Lily mentioned it this afternoon, when she came to invite me to the party, that you had once told her your Patronus was a snake."

"That was only a joke."

He wondered what else Lily and Mary had discussed.

"I know," Mary replied. "I'm afraid of snakes. But not of you."

"Remember those ashwinders that helped you regain your human form? They saved your life actually."

"_You_ saved my life, Severus. But I admit, without the ashwinders, you would never have known I needed to be saved."

"Luckily, they were there."

His hand around hers tightened for a moment.

"I live quite near here," she said a little later.

But Snape was thinking of an earlier topic.

"Did you refuse Black because of me?" he asked.

He wanted to hear her say it.

"I wasn't keen on being the hundredth name on a long list of girlfriends," she answered.

_How fortunate_, thought Snape. He was the perfect partner for her then.

"And, yes," Mary added shyly. "I did think about you."

"But that was before the trial and before we captured Mulciber," said Snape. "For all you knew, I could have been imprisoned for life."

Mary gave him a fiery look.

"Do you think I would have allowed it? I would have broken into Azkaban to free you."

"Would that magic have worked again?" Snape mused.

"Definitely. I have told you: I was unable to _imprison_ you – but getting you out of the Dementors' hands was a different matter."

"Will I ever know how you did it?"

Mary peered into the dark of the night.

"You can," she breathed, "but not here. It is still a secret. Come inside."

She stopped in front of a high hedge with an arched entrance. Behind the hedge, there was a yard, most of it overgrown with plants, with the exception of a path to a small, one-storey house and another one leading to a large stable in the distance. The inside of the house was cosy and reasonably tidy. Snape soon found himself sitting comfortably on a sofa, next to a coffee-table, on which a pot of tea was steaming. He was watching Mary, who was busy with teacups and saucers.

"I can tell you now - a part of it," she said.

"And to what do I owe this honour?"

"Now I am allowed to know about the secret. Therefore it is fine for you to know that I know. I can't tell you everything though."

She laughed nervously.

"I'd better start at the beginning. I'll tell you how I found the pendant."

Snape nodded.

"As I was going through the things left behind by my granddad – a lot of everyday items, documents, photographs -, I found a notebook with the pendant attached to it. The notebook appeared empty, but I was curious, and I forced it to reveal its contents. There were notes … notes made by my parents, who had apparently left them in granddad's care. I have no idea how much granddad knew about the notes. Unlike his granddaughter, _he_ probably did not try to read the invisible writing. Sugar?"

"No."

"My parents, as you know, used to work at the Ministry. They worked at the Department of Mysteries. They studied an ancient magical force … but that's a professional secret. The notes related to the possibility of using this force in a controlled way for pre-defined purposes. I am not sure if they were supposed to entrust these notes to anyone outside the Department of Mysteries – but it may not have been intentional. I only know they did not take the notebook along when they set out from Britain."

The teacup seemed to tremble slightly in her hands, as she continued the story.

"It turned out that the pendant had been enchanted by them – it was possible to fill it with the magic I mentioned and then use it in specific ways. This ancient magical force is available to most people, although few are aware of its true power. I followed the instructions and filled the pendant with this force. By this time, I had already made up my mind to visit you in Azkaban… You see, the news of your imprisonment had shocked me and … I could not be indifferent. It was not all gratitude either," she added warmly.

Snape was reminded of Dumbledore talking about _a power that Lord Voldemort had never been able to understand or to appreciate_. Could it be? Was he making the right connection?

"The pendant was specifically 'tuned' to you," Mary explained, "but using it wasn't easy, and I had to discover a lot of things myself. I did not manage to get through the wall at first, but after several attempts, I was finally inside. You were unconscious. I left again to bring you what you needed. And then I stayed with you until you came to."

Snape silently reached for her hand and kissed it.

"Getting you out of there was more difficult than simply visiting you. Yet, I succeeded while I was using the magic in the right way. However, it rejected the idea of imprisoning you. I should have known it."

"I rejected it, too," said Snape.

"I know. Your ability to interact with the magical force that _I_ had put into the pendant was essential. I don't think I realized the true risk of it then. But you did very well; and later … when I fell off the horse …"

She paused.

"Those were very hopeful signs, Severus. I don't know why I did not trust them later."

"Dementor-influence," Snape replied.

Lily had been right, after all. His best friend ever.

"Do you understand now why I was so secretive? It was not lack of trust … but I was clinging to the hope that my parents were alive and would come back one day. I was afraid I might cause them trouble. From the Ministry's viewpoint, such secrets should never have got into the hands of an outsider."

"Where are they now?"

"They left their home to travel in disguise to various parts of the world where Muggles suffered from war and hunger and illness. They planned to use this powerful, positive force to assist them if possible. This is a force that even Muggles possess… Still, the whole thing must have been essentially an experiment. They disappeared after being involved in a conflict with some dark forces, which made them unable to contact anyone for a long time. All I know is that now they are safe, and will probably come home for a while. But I guess they will want to continue the mission eventually. Could you give me the teapot, please?"

"That was the good news you received yesterday," he said, lifting the pot full of hot tea.

"Yes, but that was not the only reason why their colleague had to speak to me."

Snape saw Mary's eyes glitter suspiciously. She was about to say something important and surprising.

"Apparently, they noticed somehow that I had used their secret method, and they had to decide how to deal with this breach of security," she began tentatively. "I was interrogated by the Head of the Department of Mysteries."

Still holding the teapot, Snape made a sudden movement with his right hand, spilling some of the hot liquid on himself. He hissed. Mary hurriedly took the pot from his hand, put it down and picked up her wand.

"Let me see you," she said, reaching for him.

But the burning pain could not distract his attention for long. He had felt worse pains than that.

"It's nothing," he murmured. "What happened then?"

"I did not tell him everything, of course," Mary replied, after casting a quick cooling charm on Snape's hand. "But he was still shocked and impressed at the same time. He should have reported me, but he chose an alternative solution instead. They needed someone essentially to continue my parents' work at the Department of Mysteries, so he offered me a position there."

That was unexpected. Snape gaped at her, hardly noticing that Mary was pulling up his sleeve, uncovering his sore forearm.

"Did you accept?"

"Yes, I did," Mary answered. "When I was a teenager, I dreamed of becoming an opera singer. But I'm too shy to feel comfortable on stage … and probably not talented enough. This job will suit me better."

"Congratulations," said Snape. "If I understand you correctly, you will be an Unspeakable."

Mary moved closer to him, and cast another cooling charm, this time on his arm.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"And you will never ever tell anyone what you do behind those doors of the Ministry. Not even to me," said Snape, ignoring her question.

He disliked the idea that a large part of her life would be completely inaccessible to him. How much time would they have before she, like her parents, left to take part in a dangerous, secret mission?

Mary stood up, hurried out of the room, and when she returned, she was bringing some ointment for burned skin.

"I suppose every profession has its secrets. Even yours," she said.

"Sure," said Snape, thinking of Dumbledore. "But _your_ job will consist of secrets only."

"Most of all, it will be research," said Mary. "And even if I don't tell you much about it, you will be … involved."

She was stroking his hand and his forearm lightly, putting some ointment on the burned areas. The pain caused by the hot tea was gone, but all of a sudden he realized that Mary was touching the spot where earlier the Dark Mark had been. With an instinctive reaction, he drew his arm away, but her hand followed his, gently caressing the skin, where no Dark Mark was visible now; and yet Snape had the feeling that deep down it was there, dormant but dangerous.

"It is all right," she whispered. "You are free… Believe me."

The caresses continued, and nothing bad happened. He sat back finally, relaxing now. The Dark Mark was defeated, hiding powerless from the warm, living magic that had proved to be so much stronger than any other magic he knew.

"Involved? In what way?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Well … what do you need for your potions research?" Mary asked.

"A lot of things," he answered, letting himself enjoy her closeness. "Ingredients, cauldrons, tools, magic …"

"What else?"

"Knowledge. Ideas. Inspiration."

"Correct."

Snape opened his eyes and pulled her into his arms.

"I don't understand."

He indeed did not understand, but all worries left him now, and he was nearly overwhelmed by a strangely liberating sensation. Past and future seemed equally far away, while the present was tangible, profound and intense. His gaze was caught by the sight of her shoulders, hardly concealed by her light summer attire, and he longed to cover them with kisses.

She responded with a deep, satisfied sigh.

"Don't you realize, Severus, what a source of inspiration I have found in you?"

* * *

**AN: So this is the end of **_**The Forest Tale**_**, the way I intended it and planned it. I hope you will like it. However, for those who wanted this story to end as a Lily-Severus romance, and still have read so far, I have an alternative ending more or less ready in my mind. It would contain that "bizarre development" that Nazgurl mentioned in a review (the one that would push Lily and Severus together), but I will only add it to the story if there is express interest in such an alternative last chapter. Otherwise the story is finished, and I would like to thank all who have read it. Special thanks to those readers who have taken the trouble to review and comment regularly or occasionally. Your contribution kept the story alive and growing for a whole year.**


	33. The Marauders' Night

**Here is the promised alternative ending, taking up the story at the end of Chapter 31. I tried very hard to squeeze it into a chapter of the usual size - I could not. So there will be two parts, and this is the first one. (I took the opportunity to give you one more evil cliffhanger...) The next chapter will really be the last one, I promise.**

**I enjoyed playing with the plot a little bit, and this is the result. _Omnia vincit amor_ (or maybe not) - in a world where nothing is what it seems to be. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: The HP world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 33**

_Alternative Ending Part I._

_The Marauders' Night_

Snape began renewing the school's potion supply without losing another minute. It was an urgent job, and work enabled him to hide from everyone at Hogwarts for the rest of the day. The 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign was duly respected by all, except a post-owl, which flew in through the open window without any warning, and nearly dropped a roll of parchment into one of the simmering cauldrons. Snape caught the letter, unrolled it, and read it several times before opening the small parcel that was attached to it.

_Dear Severus,_

_I want__ to say goodbye to you as I'm starting a long journey today. Perhaps you remember what I told you about my parents. They have been found recently, and I have been offered a chance to visit them, and maybe I can stay with them and help them with their work. It is a secret job, and I must not tell more about it, nor am I allowed to reveal the location to anyone. I don't know when I come back, but I'm sending you a parting present. It is the fruit of my parents' work and knowledge, and it contains what I value above all. Keep it and remember me by it. May it bring you good luck._

_I hope you will find the happiness you deserve._

_Mary_

_P.S. I do not regret anything._

He stared at the present when he opened the parcel at last. It was the necklace with the pendant on it. It contained what Mary valued above all.

Mary was going to a mysterious, faraway place, without leaving her address. A scene ran across his mind as though from a Muggle movie: He could take a handful of Floo Powder, throw it into the fire, and he might catch her just in time. The next scene was difficult to imagine though.

The idea was ludicrous anyway. He did not know the address of Mary's fireplace to start with. Nor did he have any Floo Powder on the shelf. He had run out of it and had not bought a new supply before going away to the island. Well, he _could_ make inquires and he _could_ perhaps borrow some Floo Powder. But he knew he was not going to. What good would it be anyway? Mary would leave still – she would not give up the already accepted job and the chance to be reunited with her family now that she had made her choice. And most of all, what exactly could he tell her to make her change her mind?

Nothing. How would he know how to keep up a relationship? Mary had chosen a future without him, and he had to respect her decision. And he knew how to do _that_. His life would simply return to normal. What had started on the island could not be continued in the mundane, sobering reality, where he had been allowed to go back finally. At least, he would have the memory of her, the proof that he had been loved once, even if the duration of the experience made a mayfly's lifespan seem long. Even if the woman who had loved him was not Lily…

_Lily_... The pendant was warm in his hands. He wondered how much Mary had understood of how close he was to Lily and at the same time how far away he was from her. Even Vane had guessed the truth.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was tidying the master bedroom. Spring-cleaning was her monthly routine, and Vernon had taken Dudley to Marge for a two-day visit, so neither of them was in the way. She derived satisfaction from seeing the gleaming surfaces at the end of such days, though it never lasted long, once the family had come home.

She was too busy to hear the opening of the front door, but perhaps the door was opened quietly, too. Only when she turned off the vacuum cleaner, did she hear the quick footsteps on the stairs. They were not quite as heavy as Vernon's. She wheeled around and gasped when she caught sight of the intruder, who most decidedly was not Vernon. The vacuum cleaner fell out of her hands, as the door of the bedroom closed with a click, and she glimpsed an insane fury in her brother-in-law's eyes.

"Tell me everything you know," James said in a low voice. "Everything you know about her."

Petunia glanced round but saw no way out. She alone had to deal with the madman.

"W-what do you want t-to hear?" she stammered. She did not ask who 'she' was.

"What can you tell me about her and Snape?"

"S-snape?"

If James had been calmer, the temporary blank expression of her face could have reassured him. But he was not at all calm, and Petunia swiftly understood the situation. Her wizard brother-in-law – was jealous! He actually thought that, she, Petunia, could give him information about the sister she hardly ever saw nowadays… The opportunity was tempting. She had never been alone with this freak before, and she had never felt as confident in his company as now she was beginning to feel.

"Why don't you sit down?" she asked in a changed tone, taking off her apron.

She offered James a seat in the only armchair in the room, while she sat on the wide double bed, her legs crossed.

"I want an answer," said James, mollified a little by her politeness.

"They were friends," Petunia said, "best friends. But the way he used to look at her…"

* * *

Mary was sitting in her living room, with her back to the silent and empty fireplace, waiting for the Ministry employee who would take her to her parents. Her trunk was at the entrance already. She checked her wand and her brand-new Unspeakable card in her pockets. Soon she would be reunited with her parents. She would participate in their work on the new research base. She would learn much, much more about the magic she had been using mostly instinctively so far.

This thought was something to cling to.

"Expecto Patronum!" she whispered, watching out for the result.

The Patronus that left her wand was not a songbird any more. It was a unicorn of almost breathtaking beauty, very similar to the _other one_, standing still in front of her now.

Severus must already have received her letter. Did he understand the reason why she had to leave? Would he miss her? Did she want him to miss her? If her judgement was correct, his heart would certainly not break - because broken or not, his heart lay elsewhere. In his loneliness, he had responded to her magic, but the rules were clear: She could not imprison him. He remained free to pursue the life and the fight of his earlier choice – but she had also presented him with the means to find her, secrecy notwithstanding, _if that was what he truly wanted_.

"Am I doing the right thing?" Mary asked in a whisper.

The unicorn stepped closer to her, and she could feel the intense warmth of the light, as the animal knelt down and the horned head slowly bent towards her lap.

* * *

Petunia was perched on the windowsill with a glass in her hand, observing the suburban panorama. The window was open.

"Lily does not confide her secrets to me any more," she mused, "but I know her. She has always been popular, and the temptation has always been great. She loves to love and to be loved. Still, as long as you give her everything she needs, why would you have to worry?"

"I … of course, I do! But I was … away from home for a few weeks."

"And now it seems to have been a mistake," said Petunia, staring intently at the wizard. "Leaving your wife alone for _weeks_? Are you sure you want to know what she did in those days? What was done was done. You'd better focus on the present."

With a tiny leg movement, her skirt slipped a little upwards. The sight arrested James Potter's attention for several seconds.

"Lily," he replied hoarsely, "is not like that."

"Naturally," Petunia agreed. "So why are you here now?"

"Even if she is trustworthy," growled James, "others may not be."

"You mean other women?" Petunia giggled.

"No," he grunted. "Men. Snape."

"I remember him very well," said Petunia with a sigh.

That was actually true. She remembered all the boys who had constantly been at the teenage Lily's heels. Many of them … normal. Others were Lily's wizard friends. Petunia had never known how close the freaks were to her. Lily had not been interested in the normal ones, but somehow it had taken these boys a long time to notice her indifference. Lily's popularity was still a sore point with Petunia. She could never quite forget Tony Springfield, who had originally been _her_ boyfriend, but only before meeting Lily. He had broken up with her, convinced that Lily would not be able to resist him. The fool!

The memory of Tony Springfield strengthened Petunia's determination.

"Nothing ever happens here," she said, catching a glimpse of a neighbour mowing his lawn.

With a quick side-glance at James, she took a deep breath.

"Could I have a look at your wand?" she asked.

James shrugged, went to the window, and turned his wand around in front of her eyes.

It was different from Lily's. Petunia shivered slightly. The wand attracted her, and she longed to feel its texture, but she was afraid to touch it.

"Suppose I fell out of here," she said unexpectedly, her glance shifting from the wand to the wizard, "would you have the power to save me?"

She leaned out a little, towards the garden below, her eyes still fixed on him.

"Stop that," James hissed. "You're a Muggle!"

He seized her with a strong hand, feeling frustrated. He had not come here to hurt her, so what did she mean? Forcefully, he pulled her back from the windowsill, and then he would have let go of her, but the simple movement was hampered by something. Then somehow his lips got into direct contact with Petunia's, and James thought it was Lily's fault. She deserved to be a little jealous, too. How many opportunities had he missed out of loyalty to her? But he kept thinking of Lily as he smelled the scent of the perfume Lily used to wear before, and it evoked the time when everything had been unquestionably simple between them… and here his string of thoughts was broken abruptly.

Petunia, on the other hand, knew what she was doing, and no scruples bothered her. It was unfair enough that Lily should get everything, while _she_ had almost nothing. Lily had the gorgeous looks, the magical power, the opportunity to attend _that_ school and the boys competing for her. This was Petunia's chance to get back at her. Not even Vernon could be a problem now. For years, Petunia had craved a wizard husband, who would have been her second chance to enter the world of freaks, the mere existence of which filled her with an eerie yearning. Unfortunately, none of Lily's wizard friends had been interested in her, though she would have been glad to take any of them, including the awful boy of Spinner's End, with that unearthly dark gaze.

By now, however, Petunia had learned what her strong points were. It was not by accident that she had married above herself, and Vernon had never complained. Besides, she had one skill where she could always beat Lily: Cooking. Lily might be a witch and she might be able to make suspicious drinks of all sorts of disgusting ingredients, but she could never approach Petunia's famous steak and kidney pie – and James Potter seemed to be just the man who might easily prefer a good steak and kidney pie to a cauldron-cocktail with weeds and lizard skin in it. The jealousy-stricken wizard might not be aware of his options yet, but Petunia did not intend to let him go before that was corrected.

And Lily would _never_ forgive him. Or her.

* * *

"Severus."

Snape probably would not have been woken by the quiet whisper if he had been asleep. He was, however, awake in his Hogwarts room, despite the late hour.

"What happened?" he asked, kneeling down by the freshly lit fire and putting his face as close to the green flames as he could.

"Could you come over here?" said an unusually tentative voice.

He could not immediately hide his surprise. She had to have a good reason to be making that request at this time of the night.

"I … have no Floo Powder," he muttered, a little embarrassed. "I did not expect-"

"Oh," Lily replied with obvious disappointment, "it's all right then".

"Wait a minute," he breathed. "Why don't _you_ come here?"

Lily appeared to hesitate.

"You see… I'm not alone."

Snape managed not to frown. It was time to accept the fact that he had to put up with Potter if he wanted to see Lily.

"I understand," he answered, "that he belongs to you. I know how important he is to you. If you want me to … I will try my best to become friends with him."

He could easily come to regret this promise. Lily had no idea how difficult it was.

"This is … very kind, Severus," she said, her tone betraying she was touched. "We are coming in a minute."

She disappeared from the fire, and Snape quickly rose. He would not be receiving Potter kneeling on the floor.

Soon he saw the green flames again, and Lily stepped out of the fire. In her arms, she was carrying her very sleepy son, who apparently disliked Floo travel. She had a bag on her shoulder. Snape glanced into the fireplace, but James Potter did not show up.

"Well, we are here…" said Lily somewhat anxiously.

Snape finally realized 'not alone' simply meant Lily was bringing her son. They sat down on the sofa, Harry Potter in his mother's lap.

"Would you like to drink something?" Snape asked uneasily.

He had not expected guests.

"A house-elf will bring you some food-"

"No, thanks, just a cup of tea," Lily answered. "Don't disturb the house-elves."

By the time Snape returned with the teapot and the cups, Harry Potter had climbed out of his mother's lap and had begun exploring the room. Snape stared after him. The little boy was trying to open doors and peep into items of furniture, though with not much success. Luckily. After all, Snape had just inadvertently promised to try to be friends with him. Lily was watching him closely.

"Hasn't he grown?" she asked proudly.

"Yes, he has," Snape murmured.

He was not deceived by the polite beginning. Lily seemed under the weather, and it did not take long for Snape to realize that it was the usual brilliant light in her eyes that was somehow missing. Or perhaps not missing entirely, but being strangely veiled.

Harry Potter found a book about plants as potion ingredients, containing large, colourful pictures. Perhaps it was a good thing that he occupied himself with something, though Snape was afraid the book could be in grave peril. Yet, Lily was more important.

"What's the matter?" he inquired. "You look worried."

"You don't mind if I trouble you with my problems, do you?" Lily asked, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry to have come here like this, but I could not stay _there_ any longer."

Snape poured out the tea.

"Can you really imagine you are … unwelcome here? Any time of the day or the night?"

Lily smiled faintly.

"I asked you to come over to Padfoot's house, because I … panicked. I was terrified when I woke up to hear that chilling howl from the garden. It turned out that Harry and I were alone in the house. Every entrance, the windows included, was closed down with some very strong magic. The Floo Network was the only possible exit."

Snape jumped and went to his window. Not much could be seen from there, but Lily guessed his thought.

"It is the full moon," she said. "I don't expect you managed to keep track of the phases of the moon in Azkaban."

"Lupin," Snape hissed. "In Black's garden…"

"I don't know if they stay there," said Lily, "but I couldn't bear to be so close, especially with Harry… James would never have allowed it before. Tonight, however … he must have forgotten about the full moon … or he just does not care any more."

"I don't understand," he said. "Isn't Potter running with the werewolf at this very moment?"

Lily was sipping her tea silently.

"It's only Sirius," she said at last. "James and I had a row; and he left. He did not say where he was going."

"He will come back," said Snape almost automatically.

He found it hard to believe that even Potter could be stupid enough to seriously leave Lily – _Lily_! – for any reason. But she seemed so sad that Snape wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her. Unfortunately, that was out of the question.

"What made Potter upset?" he asked instead.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry Potter hitting the moving pictures in the book with his palm. He was giggling happily.

"James thought I was not telling him the truth," she replied.

"And you were?"

Lily cast an indignant look at him; then let out a mirthless laughter.

"I was. He questioned me about … about your Patronus."

"_My_ Patronus?"

"The old one."

"I see."

Naturally, Lily knew. It must have been clear as day. Even Potter should have understood.

"He did not believe the doe Patronus cast by your wand was _your_ Patronus. He insisted that your Patronus was a unicorn, therefore the doe could only be _my_ Patronus."

"Ah… and how did he think it possible?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? He thought I had met you somehow, somewhere, and used your wand. If you were out of Azkaban, you may as well have met me, and he thought I had kept quiet about it."

"I thought he had been with you on that very day."

"He does not know how many days you spent outside the prison."

The situation could even have been funny – or at least _flattering_ - if Lily had not been unhappy about it.

"It appears that the shape of a Patronus can change," said Snape, carefully avoiding her gaze.

"Yours has certainly changed," Lily replied with a trace of bitterness in her tone. "But this explanation did not satisfy James. He reckoned it could not be a coincidence if you and I had 'shared' a Patronus, implying that it was a sign of my infidelity. Another problem, I think, is that I told him it was your Patronus that had saved his life once, not mine. I'm afraid it was too much for him."

"Why?"

"He was proud that – as he believed – my Patronus had been able to rescue him without my conscious knowledge. He regarded it as proof of deep love and amazing magic. He told everyone how wonderful that Patronus had been."

"You should have let him continue believing that," Snape said dryly. "I could have done without any acknowledgment of my part in that rescue."

"I just … couldn't do it. I … wanted him to know the truth and … and understand … things."

Snape did not know what to say. The youngest Potter had already left the book open on the floor, and was now peeping under an armchair.

"But it does not matter now," Lily continued.

She shuddered as though she was cold. Snape refilled her teacup.

He could see Lily was struggling with herself as though she could not make up her mind. Finally, she took a ring off her finger and placed it on the coffee table. The ring had an emerald green stone, and yet it did not quite have the appearance of emerald. Snape caught a glimpse of the kid, who had now returned to the book and – Merlin's beard – was holding a quill in his right hand, poking the pictures with it.

"This is the ring James gave me on our engagement day," Lily breathed.

Snape turned back to her. He did not mind the book any more.

"On our wedding day," Lily explained, carefully keeping her voice down, "someone alluded to his stag night, which made me jealous, so I …"

She blushed.

"What did you do?"

Lily's eyes were downcast.

"Secretly, I enchanted this ring. From that moment on, I knew the stone in it would change its colour if James cheated on me."

"I take my hat off to you," Snape said with an ironic little bow. "I was right, after all."

"Right?" Lily asked bitterly. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you that you'd do well in Slytherin," Snape answered, his lips curling a bit. "With an ingenious idea like this-"

"Yes, they would have been overjoyed to have a _Mudblood_ among them," Lily snapped, clearly offended.

Snape flinched at hearing the word from her mouth.

"You will never forget that, will you?" he said, turning serious again. "What about this ring?"

"The stone is ruby. It has become green today. And it showed me the picture of ... a … woman. He must have at least kissed ... _her_."

She glanced towards her playing son and broke off, but her lips quivered, and a memory emerged in Snape's mind with stubborn clarity.

"A kiss doesn't always mean much," he muttered at long last. "_You_ should know it."

Lily stiffened.

"That … was different," she said.

She did not look at him.

"Different? In what way?"

The sarcasm in his tone did not escape Lily's notice.

"We both thought you had lost your magic for ever. I wanted to comfort you. To… to give you something."

"It was pity then."

_As if he had not known_!

Lily gaped at him.

"You had made an admirable sacrifice," she said. "And yes, I was willing to cheat a bit to make you a little happier, and I don't think it was wrong."

"Poor Lily", Snape replied with stinging self-irony.

"No, I … it was quite enjoyable actually."

Lily stopped as though she had bitten her tongue, and her cheeks assumed the colour of her hair.

"_Quite - _enjoyable?"

"I mean…"

Lily was deeply embarrassed, realizing that the more she explained, the more awkward the explanation would become. Snape felt insulted, but he could not be angry with her. After all, in need of a friend, she had come to _him_. It was time to steer the conversation back to the more important topic.

"Potter must have drunk some love potion in a pub," he suggested.

_That_ he could imagine of Potter.

"He is famous, he is rich. I bet it will be a silly, star-struck witch wanting to make it to the front page of Witch Weekly."

"I don't believe … _that woman_ … could give him love potion," said Lily exasperatedly. "It was probably more about the fact that he had been starved at St. Mungo's."

"It's a hard life," Snape growled with an upsurge of jealous anger.

But Lily was not listening to him. She was staring into the fireplace.

"Severus, I have a horrible feeling. I feel as though something even worse was going to happen. Something final and terrible. I'm scared."

Snape was experiencing an even stronger temptation to try and comfort her in a … well, _brotherly_ way, but he remained firmly on his guard.

There was a strange noise, making both of them jump. Snape was closer to the child, so he got there first. Harry Potter's face was a bluish colour, his mouth open, and he was struggling for air. The book had a page torn out of it roughly. Snape pointed his wand at the child's throat, and instantly the ball (formerly the page illustrating the pomegranate tree and its fruit) blocking the airway came out with a plop. Another moment of silence, then Harry cried out at the top of his voice.

Lily embraced him tightly, and Snape left them alone. He whipped up some quick potions, one for the kid, one for Lily, and a different one for himself. When he returned, Harry was much calmer, and Lily had restored the book to its original state. There were hardly any signs of the damage.

Harry was hungry and again sleepy, so Lily took some pre-packed baby food from her bag, warmed it up, and fed her child. Afterwards, Harry fell asleep at once. In the meantime, Snape had a chance to think.

"You can't go back there tonight," he said. "It is too dangerous. I'm quite certain that even Potter would agree," he added, wondering if Potter would _really_ prefer Lily to spend the night in his Hogwarts quarters instead of in the vicinity of a werewolf.

Lily must have been wondering the same.

"But we can't stay _here_…" she began slowly.

Snape stood up.

"I guess you trust a werewolf and his crazy friend more than you trust me," he said. "Fine. If you can give me some Floo Powder, I'll go and check how safe it is over there. Make yourselves at home until I come back."

Reluctantly, Lily handed him the rest of her Floo Powder. It was enough for a round trip.

"Bring back some more," she said. "I don't have any more of it left. You will find several pots by the window in the kitchen. The red one is ours."

He hesitated before entering the Floo Network. He would have preferred to stay in a safe place with Lily … but she was silent behind his back, wanting him to go. He threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace and vanished among the flames. He could not hear Lily call out his name, hardly a second too late.

* * *

He arrived at Black's house with a very vague purpose. According to what Lily had told him, the werewolf was not in the house; therefore there was very little to check. Still, he did not consider it safe for Lily and her child to return before dawn. Patrolling the place was a good excuse for him to stay away from Lily, who would probably feel more comfortable without him than with him. Lily did not want to feed Potter's jealousy, and Snape had to bear that in mind if he wanted to keep her safe at Hogwarts.

He was walking about the house quietly, like a thief, but the howl of the wolf made his blood curdle. He stopped by the window of the living room, which provided a great view of the garden. The light of the full moon fell on the two large animals roaming out there.

They disappeared around a corner of the house, which Snape did not mind at all. After checking the entrances (they were safely locked), he had nothing more to do. He could just linger in the empty house until dawn to avoid inconveniencing Lily with his untimely return. Or he could go to his office instead: A little more work would not hurt. He was just looking for the Floo Powder in the kitchen, when he noticed the opening of the garden gate.

Snape froze. Creaking, the gate opened and closed, but – seemingly – no one entered the garden. Nor could he discover anyone nearby. Yet, someone was hurrying towards the house, and soon Snape saw flashes of spells hitting the front door.

The dog and the wolf were not confused by invisibility. They could smell and hear invisible people even in the dead of the night; and the werewolf, followed by the dog, was already running towards the intruder, who had just shouted Lily's name.

The Invisibility Cloak slipped off Potter, and he barely had time to turn into a stag before the two other animals reached him. The dog made a joyful jump, but the stag must have been in a bad mood and took up a fighting stance, antlers pointing at the werewolf, chasing it away from the house where Harry and Lily were believed to be… Snape stood motionless, watching them. Was _that_ what those three did _every_ month? How fortunate, how very fortunate that Lily did not witness it, that she was not tempted to run out of the house and help Potter.

Finally, it was the wolf that gave up the fight and fled, whimpering aloud. Snape saw wolf and dog jump over the fence and vanish in the dark of the night, though their ferocious voices could still be heard from far away.

The stag did not follow them. It remained in the garden, steam coming from its mouth. Snape remembered that the front door was still open, and the werewolf could come back quite as easily as it had left. Besides, Potter might be injured. It occurred to him that Lily would already be with Potter if she was there; and Snape could not resist the feeling that Lily's will was driving his own. A full-grown werewolf's bite was dangerous even if it did not affect animals in the same way as people; and instead of quickly closing the door, Snape cautiously stepped into the garden, watching out for the werewolf with a thumping heart.

All of a sudden, the stag was in front of him, very close. He could hear a deafening roar (which might have been a lion's), deep and aggressive, reverberating around him; and simultaneously, a long, sharp object flashed in the moonlight.


	34. The Fraud

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Many thanks to her for inventing the HP universe for us.

**And finally...**

**A Forest Tale**

**Chapter 34**

_Alternative Ending Part II._

_The Fraud_

Harry was sleeping peacefully, but Lily could not stay still. Sitting was uncomfortable; therefore she was walking about the room, fighting off a sensation of insecurity.

She was observing the furniture in the room as though she was trying to discover the fingerprints of the owner. On the mantelpiece, she found a book that had been left open, and she stepped closer to examine it, but her attention was caught by a very out-of-place-looking object lying across the open pages of the book. It was a necklace with an egg-shaped pendant on it. There were few objects she would have considered less likely to be found in Severus's private quarters than a piece of jewellery… unless it was a magical object, perhaps. Curiously, she bent over the necklace, and that was how she noticed the rolled-up parchment next to the book.

She could not quite explain how it had happened – whether the parchment had unrolled on its own, whether she had actually touched it, or whether it had been unrolled by the magical power of her curiosity – but there it lay flat and open in front of her eyes, and it was undoubtedly a letter, written in a neat hand. She was feeling something akin to what she had felt when her Muggle sister had received a letter from Hogwarts. Who was writing letters to Severus?

The risk was enormous, and yet, she was already perusing the lines, her lips parting in amazement. The words were merely friendly; but she thought there was a lot to read between the lines. What was it that Mary did not regret? The parting present contained what Mary valued above all... Whatever it was, such presents were rarely given unless the relationship was special.

Hard though it was to believe, Severus had received a _love letter_ - which was a farewell letter as well. Something had ended quite recently, and she wondered how it had affected him. Even as he was trying to comfort her, to provide her with shelter and safety, he was perhaps mourning the end of a relationship, the loss of a girl who … who was _not_ Lily.

This possibility had an unexpectedly unsettling resonance in her mind, and everything she knew about her best friend appeared to be woefully inadequate. Had his mind been occupied with the letter and the present just before her visit? If so, he had apparently forgotten about it all for _her_ sake.

She wondered how Severus could handle a break-up. When _their_ friendship had (temporarily) ended on that sunny June day (five years had passed since then), she had never thought of how _he_ was coping with it. She had had her own emotions to mind, and she had never bothered to imagine Severus's point of view. But _their_ relationship had been friendship, while this one was probably something different.

Gingerly, Lily touched the pendant with a fingertip. Immediately she could feel two things at the same time. One was an irresistible urge to take the pendant into her hand; the other one was a hot, burning sensation – the pendant was hurting her! Yet, she could not let go of it. For a brief moment, she thought of dark magic, but something in her mind refused the idea. She tried to drop the pendant nevertheless, but only to have her fingers lock around it tightly. When she opened her palm again, there were no painful marks on it, but the fire seemed to be burning inside her already. She was overwhelmed by the desire to know what it was she was holding, when the pendant broke into two equal halves.

She gasped, but before she had time to be properly scared by the idea that in her impertinent curiosity she had damaged someone else's treasured property, something was coming out of the pendant. Frightened, Lily took a step backwards, but the vision was all around her. It was a huge fire - burning trees everywhere, with snakes coming out of the flames, and Lily knew she had seen those trees before. _There __was no way to escape, but suddenly the running figure of a man appeared. He stumbled, fell on half-knee and looked up at her, a __flash of __surprise in his eyes._

It was Severus. Lily recognized him beyond doubt, though he did not look like his usual self. It must have been because of the intense light and colour of the flames, but his usually pale, sun-deprived complexion was glowing; and even though 'handsome' was still not the word to describe his face, Lily knew that she would not tire of watching him for a very long time.

The scene continued, although Lily was hardly aware of what was happening until _some drink was poured down her throat_, and Lily thought a cooling potion was just what she needed, but the potion almost lost its effect_ when Severus took her hand to pull her across the fire_. The touch of his hand on hers had never been like this.

The scene changed. _Now she seemed to be kneeling on a wet, cold and hard surface with very little light __seeping in __from outside, and she could feel nothing but emptiness inside. Someone she loved had died… A door opened, and Severus entered_ – again, not the Severus Lily had known before, but the one she saw through Mary's eyes.

"_Come," he said, and although initially she refused to be rescued, it was impossible to ignore his will, and she let him take her hand once again._

_And now it was night and she was flying towards a cold and frightening place._ _When she arrived, she had to get through a wall by means of some extremely difficult magic. Finally she was inside a prison cell, where she found Severus in a semi-conscious state, thin and pale again, in appalling conditions. _

It occurred to Lily that Severus would not want her to be there – even as a child, he had done everything in his power to hide his poverty, and she had usually respected those pitifully hopeless efforts. This was much worse than simple poverty._ But she did not feel revolted at all as she began doing __the various chores around him. _

Then she saw flashes of various moments in a prisoner's life, moments Mary had secretly and illegally shared with Severus in the days when Lily had been trying to obtain official permission to visit him...

Then, in a mirror, she saw him change his prison uniform into ordinary black robes, and Lily could not tell any more whether the emotions she was experiencing were Mary's or her own. But when Severus came out of the prison cell, wearing the necklace with the pendant around his neck, Lily felt a rush of great joy and simultaneously a rush of wild jealousy; and the impact of this contradiction petrified her mind. Helpless, she watched him fly on horseback, reach the island at dawn, and enter the cave where he had been with _her_ first, and yet _she was also following him now, trusting his previous experience and knowledge of the cave_.

The Blue Stone did not work for Severus any more; and this time Lily's own emotions suppressed anything that Mary could feel. Lily knew what Mary did not know, the true significance of the Stone; and the fact that Severus was able to use the pendant but not the Blue Stone made her feel hurt, but she despised herself for it.

_There were others in the cave with them, dangerous people… __She saw Severus drop his wand and let Mulciber capture him just to spare her pain, __and she also saw him approach, raising a fist that was going to hit her – but he kept struggling against the Curse binding his mind and his free will. She was close to crying when he attacked Mulciber and got defeated in an unequal fight; yet, she really broke down only when he won the duel in the end. Then Severus took her into his arms, and comforted her _as he had never comforted Lily, not even tonight in her great distress.

_Later they were flying again, and she had to help Severus enter Azkaban, but she could not do it. She could not leave him locked up among the Dementors … and when they were on the run, Severus was holding her firmly, protecting her from the monsters... _

They were on the island again, and Severus had a bleeding wound on his arm, but his face reflected anger at least as much as pain. And she was once again Lily, who understood that, in reality, she had been at that moment in the Azkaban cell with James, and James had touched Severus's enchanted blood with a knife... When his pain was over, Lily knew it had ended when _she_ had touched his blood far away.

Lily kept watching the vision, unable to turn away from the sight, even though she _should_ have closed her eyes now. Only when she could feel her mind all but burst with the growing tension, did she – or was it Mary? – _close her eyes, but only to feel him much more intensely than before. Later, she opened her eyes again to see him, but he was being led away from her, and she was lonelier than ever __before_.

The vision dissolved, and the pendant closed again. Lily sank into an armchair, shaking and trembling with what she had discovered. She had seen Severus through Mary's love, and Mary's view on him seemed strikingly accurate even as she regained control of her mind. She was not surprised that Mary loved him – it would have been unbelievable if she did _not_. The shock shaking her was the realization that _she_ – Lily – loved him, too. It was _her_ love for Severus that had forced the pendant containing _Mary's _love to open up to her, and she was already paying the price: Control was slipping out of her hands, and she was compelled to accept the long-suppressed truth.

She wished it had remained suppressed forever. There had been a time when mere friendship with dark-leaning, pro-Slytherin Severus had been embarrassing, even degrading; and James had been the ideal boyfriend to free her once and for all from what she had so readily denied. Who else could have reinforced her choice better; and what other relationship could have more successfully wiped off the memories tainting her childhood? It was because of James that she had been able to move on.

And now, it was too late. She had a family. There was no denying that her marriage was in a crisis – and with a guilty conscience, she saw that her jealous, irritable James had understood her feelings much better than she herself had. But Severus had embraced Mary, and Mary had become to him what _she_ – Lily – should have been. Oh, yes, they _had _kissed once - but had not Severus told her tonight that a _kiss_ did not always mean much? And yet, she loved him.

Loved him? The colour drained from her cheeks as she recalled what she had done. Severus could be in mortal danger! Having had _two_ close calls with a werewolf before, he had gone to face the same one yet another time only to … to do what? Why was he checking the safety of Padfoot's house (and for such a long time) if she and Harry were spending the night away from the danger anyway? She could think of one answer only: He wanted her to be safe, but he did not want to stay with her. He preferred to risk meeting a werewolf… but why? Was it because he thought _that_ was what _she_ wanted? Could he consider her so heartless? Or was it - somehow - because of Mary?

"Shame on you, Lily," she told herself in desperation. "You should worry about his safety, not about his motivations."

If Severus was hurt tonight, it would be her fault. _She_ had allowed him to go and take a perfectly pointless risk just because she had been afraid to stay with him – although it was not _Severus_ she was afraid of … and not even James.

She had no Floo Powder - but dawn was near, and she would Apparate back to Padfoot's house soon – and perhaps Severus would return before that. She was, however, waiting for him in vain. Severus did not return – she only saw him in her imagination, which tormented her with vivid images of pure horror, until her anxiety, combined with a whole night's sleeplessness, gave her a severe migraine. By the time the night was over, Lily had become expressly ill, with symptoms including headache, blurred vision and nausea...

She dragged herself to the twin cabinets where Severus kept his potions. They were locked, but her Alohomora opened both of them. She reached for a bottle of Invigoration Draught when she heard the knocking on the window. It was an owl, bringing an envelope addressed to her in James's handwriting, but the letters were dancing a foggy dance before her eyes. She went back to the potion cabinets, and opened the envelope as she was tasting the potion, but as soon as her tongue got into contact with the liquid, she realized the mistake she had made, and she dropped the rest of the drink at once.

Once again, it was too late. A tiny amount of the poison had already reached her throat, and although she made a grab for one of the bezoars sitting in a bowl on one of the shelves of the cabinet, her legs failed to support her, and her fingers missed their target.

* * *

Snape had his wand, but he did not have much time to decide on the most useful spell. Still, he succeeded in reducing the effect of the attack at least, so he was not impaled by the enormous antlers. He was thrown back though; and when he hit the ground, he was certain he would never be able to move again. He fully expected the hooves of the stag to trample on him with the animal's whole weight, but he only heard staggering footsteps in the dark, which had died away by the time he managed to turn his head around. He wondered how close the werewolf might be, but he still did not know how to get up. Finally, there was some noise again, and Potter returned. He was directing a wand at Snape.

"Rennervate," Potter muttered.

Snape gave a groan, indicating he was conscious. The groan sounded like 'Sectumsempra', but he did not have the strength to make it a real spell. At least he tightened his grip on his wand - lifting it was, for the moment, too difficult to try. In spite of that, Potter tumbled and collapsed like a sack, still clutching his wand.

"Where are Lily and Harry?" Potter panted, raising his head from the ground.

Defiantly, Snape pressed his lips together. The silence lasted at least a minute.

"Where are they?" Potter demanded again, brandishing his wand.

Snape sat up (taking his time, since every single movement hurt), before responding.

"They are safe," he growled. "Where were _you_?"

Potter was silent. He had left a very disappointed Petunia rather abruptly, when she had made a romantically-intended observation about the full moon casting a lovely light into the room – but he was not going to share these details with _Snape_. James Potter was not proud of himself.

Without getting up, he turned away from Snape, ignoring the wand that was now pointing directly (if somewhat shakily) at him. With his back to Snape, he let out a strange sound; and Snape's hand, just about to sweep off some short black hairs that had got caught on his robes, stopped in midair. The Stag of Gryffindor was crying!

"Get a grip on yourself," Snape snapped, looking in the opposite direction.

Then slowly, he got to his feet. With equal difficulty, Potter did the same. He opened the door of the house, and went inside, gesturing for Snape to follow.

Potter had just proved that he was perhaps even more dangerous than his werewolf friend out there, and Snape did not like the invitation at all – but he would not have been able to go very far anyway. Besides, he did not want to appear easily frightened. He entered the house after Potter, who sank down on the nearest chair.

"I lost my mind," Potter said just audibly. "I thought Lily and Harry were in danger. I … wanted to protect them."

"From _me_?"

Potter shook his head.

"I attacked _Remus_. I … injured him. He was bleeding heavily when he left. No one can help him … until dawn."

"I am not a werewolf, and you nearly killed me, too," Snape reminded him, just in case Potter had not noticed.

"Why don't you leave Lily alone?" Potter asked accusingly. "None of this would have happened if it had not been for you … if Lily and I had not quarrelled because of you!"

"Idiot," said Snape with as much contempt as he was able to put into a single word. "She has always wanted _you_. Do you think I would be here if I had the slightest doubt about that? She fled to Hogwarts with your child because she did not feel safe with the werewolf in the garden. But as you can see, I am _here_."

Potter pressed his palms against his ears as though Snape's words could hurt them. He was thinking of what Petunia had told him about Lily and Snape. Lily's sister did not seem to be a disinterested witness any more, but he still could not fully understand how her insinuations, together with her abortive seduction scheme, as well as his own pathetic role in the affair, had created a tension he had been unable to deal with. He had taken it out on a _friend_ with a cruel, animal instinct he had never before realized he possessed. It was the same instinct that had driven him to attack Snape, but it was not easy to acknowledge his regret to _him_.

Friend or foe – it used to be simple. Now he had to face the fact that he was not always able to tell them apart; and how could he be sure that Lily and Harry would not get into mortal danger the next time he made a similar mistake?

"I would like to hex myself," he said in a drained voice.

In the ensuing long silence, the two wizards were conveniently busy with the physical after-effects of the violent incident. Potter had bruises to tend to, and Snape's back and limbs still hurt. Potter did not protest when Snape (without asking his permission) searched Lily's stock of potions and helped himself to some Strengthening Solution. In exchange, Snape shared with Potter the painkiller he had also found. (He did not give Potter anything that would _strengthen_ him though.) Neither of them suggested or even pondered contacting Lily.

Dawn broke and dawn brought back Black, who was supporting a gravely injured, very weak Lupin. They cast some first aid spells on him and bandaged his wounds (there were several of them, and he had lost a lot of blood). Snape gave him some potions, too, as Lupin's face was distorted by permanent pain, although he endured the treatment without a single cry. He was undoubtedly in life-threatening condition. Black notified St. Mungo's.

"They will ask ... questions," Lupin said feebly.

"I will answer those questions," said Potter, who did not try to hide his tears any more. "You _need_ a healer."

He sat down by his injured friend, and stayed there until the healer arrived.

Black was walking up and down in the kitchen, ruffling his hair from time to time.

The healer spent a long time with Lupin; but finally he went downstairs into the kitchen, where the others were waiting. (Snape did not know why he was still there - unless because it was very early morning, and he supposed Lily could be asleep. Besides, he was not quite ready to make the simple decision of going anywhere yet.)

"Are you Mr Lupin's family?" the healer inquired.

"Yes, we are," said Black.

"His friends," said Potter. "He has no family."

"The wounds were caused by a sharp object," the healer began. "A large knife or -"

"Antlers," said Potter.

"Can we talk openly?" the healer asked, watching Potter closely.

Potter nodded.

"The physical wounds," the healer explained, "can be healed. However, _that_ in itself does not guarantee your friend's survival."

He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"He has other wounds. Not physical ones. Some of them are old, but he has been traumatized anew. I'm sorry to say this, but I can't find in him the will to live."

"Do whatever must be done," said Potter, turning deadly pale, "nothing else matters. I will pay for any treatment he needs."

"St Mungo's is a very good hospital," the healer said. "But we are best at treating the wounds of the body. Your friend needs something more. There is a place … far away from here… It is quite new, but is run by widely respected professionals, who are experts in their fields and know what they are doing. Their purpose is to heal the deeper wounds besides the visible ones. They accept werewolves who want to get a second chance to start their lives again. However…"

The healer paused.

"Don't worry about the costs," Potter said quickly.

The healer cast a searching glance at the three young men.

"They do not accept lonely wolves. The method they have developed requires a family member, someone who cares for the patient enough to stay with him permanently, participate in the treatment and help him heal. For years if necessary."

Potter's eyes opened wide.

"If it is not possible, the patient can just as well go to St. Mungo's. You say Mr Lupin has no family-"

"He broke ties with his parents," said Black. "He did not want to trouble them with his … condition. He has never been married, and he is not in a relationship … as far as I know."

"A successful therapy can greatly improve the patient's chances of living a happier life despite the condition," the healer continued. "If Mr Lupin's parents are alive, perhaps one of them could be persuaded to-"

"That's enough," Potter cut in. "We'll try it. I'll stay with him."

At the questioning look of the healer, he raised his hand.

"Yes, I perfectly understand what it means. No one is closer to him than his friends, and since _I_ caused his wounds, I must help him heal."

"I'll make the necessary arrangements then," said the healer. "You friend must be transferred there immediately. As for who caused his wounds, well, Mr Lupin is not intending to seek justice (I must say it is a typical reaction of injured werewolves) but, Mr Potter, I do think you may find the therapy useful as well."

The healer left. Snape and Black were staring at Potter, bewildered.

"Prongs, dear old mate," Black murmured. "Don't you think I should-"

"No," said Potter. "I almost killed him last night. I must accept whatever it takes to heal him. It is about his life – it is worth the effort. How can we expect him to be well if he loses his trust in his friends? First Peter becomes a traitor, and then I injure Moony… "

"I'll help you get there," said Black. "Perhaps we would all need that therapy… It has never been the same since Peter turned his back on us." He ruffled his hair again. "I'll go and pack his things."

Snape remained alone with Potter and he could not restrain himself any more.

"What about Lily?"

Potter looked at him with the expression of a recently tortured man.

"She will understand," he answered. "She must understand. I made a mistake, and I owe this to my FRIEND! To both my friends... The _three_ of us at least ...will never let each other down. But I will come back … Eventually."

"She will have plenty of time to be unhappy until then."

"I know!" Potter snapped. "Tell me how I could make a better choice between her and my friend's life!"

He clenched his fist. Snape shrugged.

"Perhaps you are right. You'd better lie low for a while, hiding yourself and your _friend_. An unregistered Animagus and a werewolf nearly killing each other! At least you will not drag Lily into this!"

"Stop that!" Potter shouted, stepping away from Snape. "You don't know … you _cannot _know what it is like to … to have harmed a friend … someone you care for, someone you would not want to hurt for the world!"

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but what he actually said was something completely different.

"I do."

Potter wheeled around, and gaped at him.

"You do?" he asked sharply.

Snape stared back at him, paler than usual.

"It makes you loathe yourself," he replied. "It makes you want to punish yourself. You would give anything to undo the harm."

"Exactly," said Potter quietly. "Exactly."

The healer returned.

"Mr Potter, we must leave in a few minutes. They are waiting for you in the Healing Centre."

"I'm almost ready," Potter answered.

He turned back to Snape.

"I'll send her a note … There is no time for more," he said miserably, knowing he would not be able to look into Lily's eyes anyway.

"Don't let her despair," he continued with great effort, "and don't let anyone hurt her … or Harry … There may still be Death Eaters out there. Keep them safe until I come back. I will come back as soon as possible."

"I'll do my best to keep them alive," Snape muttered, "but I can't take your place in their lives."

Potter stared at Snape hard, until Snape had to notice. He fell silent.

"You will _try_ to comfort her, I guess," Potter said coldly at last. "Don't deny it because I won't believe you."

With this, he left the kitchen to get ready to leave.

"_Oh, yes, I will_," Snape wanted to shout after him, but he could not.

It did occur to him that comforting Lily might not be an unpleasant task after all, but he shook off the thought. He knew how Lily was going to feel, and Potter's cynical sarcasm had hit home. In vain he wanted that lost brilliance to return into her eyes. Whatever he did, she would miss _Potter_. It might take an eternity before she accepted comfort from _him_. And then again, what was comfort? A crying Lily's hand in his, or perhaps a cold kiss of revenge, after which he would be told that was it? He was not sure he could bear it once more.

But when he was left alone, he took some Floo Powder, and peered into the green flames.

* * *

The room where Remus Lupin found himself at the end of an exhausting journey resembled a cosy bedroom much more than a ward. It was clean, bright and practical, but did not look insanely expensive. That was good. It would be difficult to accept an unreasonable financial sacrifice from his richer friends even though he knew James would be hurt by his refusal.

"Mr Lupin," said the healer who had received them, "let me welcome you and your friend in the "Hand in Hand Healing" programme of our Healing Centre. I am Healer Sage, and it is my duty to give you an introduction to our programme and to explain everything you must know about our methods. Later, you will have a chance to meet researchers Mr and Mrs McDonald, who have worked out and first tried out the magical background of this programme. They often visit us and help us with our work. As for the centre itself, when you can get up, you will discover our various facilities; however, on the first three days after the full moon, you would be advised to rest even if you did not have these deep wounds. If you need assistance, our nurses will help you… "

* * *

It was night again when Lily came to in a candle-lit ward of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Another bed in the same ward was occupied by a house-elf. Lily did not feel well. As she stirred, a door opened, Madam Pomfrey came in, and gave Lily a drink. She recognized the antidote.

"Where is Harry?" she asked in a faint voice.

"He's with Professor McGonagall," Madam Pomfrey replied. "He is fine, and you can see him in the morning. Try to sleep now."

She left, but Lily was not alone for long. Someone else entered the ward, and sat down on a chair by her.

It was James. He took her hand into his.

"Don't worry about anything," he said. "Just sleep."

Lily had a lot of questions, and she wanted to reprimand James, but she felt too weak to start that kind of conversation. Therefore she merely drew her hand away, and she asked one question only.

"Is … Severus all right?"

James seemed surprised.

"Yes, he is. Why?"

Lily did not respond.

She felt much better when she woke up. The candles were already out, and the rays of the sun had found their way into the hospital ward. She was alone - even the house-elf's bed was empty. She carefully sat up and stared at the door. It was probably too early to inquire after Harry; but it was difficult to be patient.

She tried to recollect her memories of the previous two nights. How had she ended up drinking that poison? The owl had disturbed her, and she must have gone to the wrong cabinet for the second time. She wondered how it was possible that she was still alive.

As though James had sensed that she was awake, he promptly entered again, looking exhausted, even old. He sat down again by her side, this time without a single word, avoiding eye-contact with her. Lily was observing him, trying to decide what she was feeling. James seemed almost a stranger to her now, and she could not see the wizard she had once fallen in love with. Was there enough forgiveness in her to accept him back? Could she still _love _him one day as she had loved him perhaps aeons before? Would she ever be able to trust him again? Or could she simply ... live with him without real love? She had no doubt that James loved Harry, and Harry needed his father. Was it possible to break up at all?

"_I won't deprive Harry of his father_," she said to herself. "_But I cannot promise anything more. Not yet._"

And what was she to do with her newly recognized, disturbing feelings about Severus? She was ashamed to admit it to herself that she would have expected him to show up by her sickbed as well. Had she offended him? Perhaps he had paid her a visit during the day… Or he could be seeking solitude, or perhaps he was trying to find Mary... Never before had Lily wanted to understand Severus so much. Perhaps he needed the help of a friend, only he did not know how to ask. And who could he go to? Dumbledore? Ridiculous. Who would share their relationship problems with Dumbledore? No, it was quite clear who Severus's only real friend was ... and she had been too occupied with her own problems to even ask him how he was doing. She had lost count of how many times she had felt ashamed of herself in the past two days.

"How did I survive?" she asked suddenly.

"Snape found you," James said. "He gave you a bezoar when he got back from Bl- … Padfoot's house, and he brought you here."

"In the meantime, where were you?"

"I'm here now," James replied after a short pause. "We can discuss everything when you feel better."

He did not look at her.

"I'm feeling better," she said.

"You must never attempt that again," James continued in an agitated voice. "I don't understand how you could do it."

Lily gaped at him, but then she realized what he was speaking about.

"I didn't want to commit suicide," she explained. "I needed some potion for a migraine. I … made a mistake."

"A mistake?" James asked with a mixture of relief and astonishment in his tone. "You?"

Lily shrugged.

"I took the wrong bottle… I never thought of poison when I opened the cabinets. To start with,_ I_ don't keep poison among my potions."

"Well, I … I mean Snape obviously does."

"I guess he must," said Lily. "Poisons and antidotes are part of the curriculum here, and some antidotes require poison as one of their ingredients. I just wasn't careful enough."

"It was … an accident then?"

"Of course," Lily answered impatiently. "What would I have wanted to kill myself for?"

"You are right," said James. "You had no reason at all. Good."

She glared at him suspiciously.

"_Honestly,_ James! What exactly were you thinking?"

His eyes reflected nothing but pure joy as their glances met for an instant. Then he quickly looked away, as though his emotion was something to hide.

"Wait a minute," said Lily. "I got a letter. I was about to read it ... Did you find it?"

"Yes, I did… So, you haven't read it?"

"No, not yet. Where is it?"

"It is nothing urgent," James answered. "I… wrote it. No need to worry about it."

Lily was increasingly suspicious. She could not imagine James feeling remorse that was deep enough to make him truly shy. He had something unpleasant to say… That was the reason why he avoided her eyes…

"Say it," she said sternly. "I am not a child. I can handle whatever it is, here and now."

He sighed. It was even more difficult than he had imagined.

"Nothing irremediable happened," he began cautiously.

Lily was not so certain about that; but, of course, James was talking about his own experiences.

"Everything will be all right … eventually."

"Couldn't you just … tell me at last?" she asked, unaware of how severe she was sounding. "If it's anything involving Tuney, I am prepared."

"Tuney?"

He seemed genuinely perplexed. Lily was getting confused.

"What is it then?"

He rose.

"I wish I could help," he said. "Really help. I tried."

Lily could not bear it any more. She got out of the hospital bed and stood facing him, white and weary in the hospital nightgown.

"You are not strong enough to get up-"

"I am," she replied. "Much stronger than you'd think."

He went to the wardrobe, took out a hospital dressing gown and put it on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for the first time that morning, he let her look into his eyes.

"I want the full truth," she said; her voice unexpectedly and almost magically soft.

Lily's gaze captured his. He was unable to look away. He had never suspected Lily had this skill or that she was willing to use it. Occlumency was no use. All his well-practised defence mechanisms melted against the emerald-green eyes. Lily was doing what recently not even the Dark Lord had been able to do, and he felt stark naked before her, feeling all the shame and embarrassment of nakedness.

He knew that she knew, and that his pathetic attempt to comfort her had failed. He had missed the chance to give her the tactful explanation he had planned. He saw the shock in her face, he could feel her heart miss a beat, he thought he heard her gasp - and he had no idea how to ask her to forgive. Words he had heard on another moonlit night came to his mind: Black's words, the ones about King Arthur's birth, the words that had hurt him so much. He realized how this deception could be, how it certainly would be misunderstood. Who would believe that there had _never_ been a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind somewhere that he might, perhaps, reap a stolen reward for once again impersonating James Potter?

But Lily's features were composed again. She had been astounded, yet she felt no anger at all. He was cheating to make her a little happier. She was, in fact, touched, and – could it be? – _relieved_, as though after facing a long overdue change that she had both expected and feared.

There would be time later to unmask this heart-warmingly mortified fraud in front of her. (She almost chuckled in anticipation of the unmasking.) For a while, she could play along.

"I forgive you," she said earnestly, "if you truly intend to stand by me and if you promise you will be very good … to Harry."

_Hi_s eyes widened now. He did not know what to make of her words. Had he not just been found out?

"I love you," he said, reaping the stolen reward he had earned.

He might never have pronounced those three words if he had not been able to hide behind James Potter's mask. Then, as though waking to reality from a deep sleep, he resignedly shook his head.

"Tell me what you need me to be."

Lily's heart was suddenly so light that she found herself capable of forgiving even Petunia. She definitely needed to sort out her feelings, and she was yet to learn some background details of this story – but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than a chance to personally heal any injury that the antlers of the stag might have caused to Severus.

"I don't think I'll ever want you to be anything but yourself," she said. "I wish I could touch and hug your soul."

Life was very far from returning to normal.

**THE END**


End file.
